Steve Earle — Billy Austin

My name is Billy Austin I'm twenty-nine years old I was born in Oklahoma Quarter Cherokee, I'm told Don't remember Oklahoma It's been so long since I left home Seems like I've always been in prison Like I've always been alone Didn't mean to hurt nobody Never thought I'd cross that line I held up a filling station Like I'd done a hundred times The kid done like I told him And he lay face down on the floor Guess I'll never know what made me Turn and walk back through that door The shot rang out like thunder My ears rang like a bell No one came running So I called the cops myself Took their time to get there And I guess I could've run I knew I should be feeling something But I never shed tear one I didn't even make the papers Because I only killed one man But my trial was over quickly And then the long hard way began The court appointed lawyer Couldn't look me in the eye He just stood up and closed his briefcase When they sentenced me to die And now my waiting's over As the final hour drags by I ain't about to tell you That I don't deserve to die There's twenty-seven men here Mostly black and brown and poor Most of them are guilty But who are you to say for sure? So when the preacher comes to get me And they shave off all my hair Could you take that long walk with me Knowing Hell is waiting there? Could you pull that switch yourself, sir With a sure and steady hand? Could you still tell yourself, sir That you're better than I am? My name is Billy Austin I'm twenty-nine years old I was born in Oklahoma Quarter Cherokee, I'm told