Fixin’ to Die - Bob Dylan

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

It’s rising up above my head, up above my head

And tell Jesus make up my dying bed

I’m walking kind of funny, Lord

I believe I’m fixing to die, fixing to die

Yes I’m walking kind of funny, Lord

I believe I’m fixing to die

Fixing to die, fixing to die

Well, I don’t mind dying

But I hate to leave my children crying