| Swaying, it’s a hard decision am I gonna leave this prison
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| If they tell me one more time to get in line, I’m gonna breakaway
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| But I’m sure that every single prison guard that walks around this prison yard
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| Is gonna have a shot at me if he sees me running for the gate
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| I’d be better off dead, full of lead, rather than delay one more day
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| Letting my mind and my body rot away in this awful place
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| I’d be floating way up so high looking down
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| At all my buddies saying, «You chumps, you suckers
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| I hope one day you can find the guts to escape»
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| Well, you might say, «How come you so sure heaven’s where you’re going?
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| You ain’t exactly been showin' the ways of an angel, glory bound»
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| I must admit you got a point, but I got a feeling the ceiling ain’t so far
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| And Yahweh just may want a couple words with yours truly
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| So I’ll be walking right up to those big pearly gates, saying, «Hey Saint Peter,
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| ol' Buddy, ol' pal
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| How’s the family, how’s work, how’s the kids?
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| What do you say, how’s about crackin' those gates?
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| And lettin' a fine upstanding fellow like myself join the club?»
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| And he might say, «Ah, Mr. Avett you can save it, I ain’t gonna be buying any
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| of that lyin', jive, hustlin'
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| Boldfaced, fake conman nonsense that you used to get by with
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| Down there on Earth
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| And I’ll say, «Come on, surely you and God of all people ought to know
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| I was innocent of those crimes, I told you so
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| Every night by myself in that cell
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| Surrounded by nothing but grey and quiet»
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| Well dear God, maybe I should just be talking straight to you
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| The truth is I lost my way somewhere along the way
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| And if you got a minute would you spend it with a sinner?
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| Just long enough to give me some directions home |