| Don’t want no high rise tombstone
|
| Gonna gather up my things
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| Don’t wanna hear you fussin'
|
| If it is, or if it ain’t
|
| If it is, or if it ain’t
|
| And my life needs no witness
|
| And my burden is my own
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| My burden is my own
|
| I’m in, I’m out, and I’m gone
|
| You gotta answer to somebody
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| You gotta answer to somebody
|
| If you didn’t learn, then you didn’t read
|
| Gonna live with it, gotta live with it, yeah
|
| What’s a man to do, what’s a man to do
|
| Gotta answer to somebody
|
| Answer to somebody
|
| Gotta answer, answer, yeah
|
| And I’m in, I’m out, and I’m gone
|
| The death row preacher
|
| Came through the back door to greet her
|
| Hardly can blame her
|
| For trusting a one-armed lion-tamer
|
| She stepped in from a storm
|
| As dry as a bone
|
| The preacher thought to himself
|
| He never takes care of his own
|
| She said «look what your prayers
|
| Look what they’ve done to me
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| What can your prayers do for me?»
|
| Preacher said, careful talking to yourself
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| 'Cause you may be listening
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| Careful talking to yourself
|
| 'Cause you may be listening
|
| I’m in, I’m out, and I’m gone |