Fixin’ to die (life from atlanta, 1/27/2012) Widespread Panic

Feeling funny in my mind, Lord
I believe I'm fixing to die, fixing to die
Feeling funny in my mind, Lord
I believe I'm fixing to die
Well, I don't mind dying
But I hate to leave my children crying

Well, I look over yonder
To that burying ground
Look over yonder
To that burying ground
Sure seems lonesome, Lord
When the sun goes down

Feeling funny in my eyes, Lord
I believe I'm fixing to die, fixing to die
Feeling funny in my eyes, Lord
I believe I'm fixing to die
Well, I don't mind dying but
I hate to leave my children crying

There's a black smoke rising, Lord
It's rising up above my head, up above my head
There's a black smoke rising, Lord
It's rising up above my head, up above my head
And tell Jesus
Make up my dying bed