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