Текст Steve Earle – Fixin’ To Die

I’m fixin’ to die, reckon I’m going to Hell
I’m fixin’ to die, reckon I’m going to Hell
I’d be tellin’ you a lie, if I told you I was treatin’ her well

Now I followed her car to the Heaven on the Highway Hotel

Sittin’ in the shadow across the parking lot
Reckon that I’m probably right, prayin’ that I’m not
A pistol on the dashboard, whiskey in the cup
Here he come, let ’em get inside and I lit ’em up

Fixin’ to die, reckon I’m going to Hell
I’m fixin’ to die, reckon I’m going to Hell
‘Cause I shot my baby in the Heaven on the Highway Hotel
And I’m fixin’ to die, going to Hell
I’m fixin’ to die, and I’m going to Hell
I’m fixin’ to die, reckon I’m going to Hell

Warden walkin’ up ahead, preacher there behind
Guard on either side in case my legs unwind
Chains around my ankles, beads around my hands
Walking ‘cross the yard never coming back again

I’m fixin’ to die, reckon I’m going to Hell
I’m fixin’ to die, reckon I’m going to Hell
‘Cause I shot my baby in the Heaven on the Highway Hotel
Now I’m fixin’ to die, I’m going to Hell
I’m fixin’ to die, I’m going to Hell
I’m fixin’ to die, reckon I’m going to Hell