I was born in Mississippi
shot dead in New Orleans
my flask was full
my walk was mean
I was raised in Jackson
became a man in jail
my eyes was foggy
spit was in my pail
my dad was hard man
my mom a drunk, stone cold
I been sittin’ on this bar stool
since I was three years old
people always ask me
“where you gonna be?”
I’m going to Memphis, I told ‘em
Memphis, Tennessee
I rode by freight train
walked on the tracks
crossed all the crossroads
the devil’s on my back
I was born in Mississippi
shot dead in New Orleans
I never did find what I was lookin’ for
bein’ down became routine
