(no subject)
I don't know how many country music fans we have here. I'm really not much of one myself, but last night someone introduced me to a very beautiful song. Anyone opposing the death penalty will surely love this song.
Billy Austin By: Steve Earle
My name is Billy Austin. I'm 29 years old.
I was born in Oklahoma. A quarter Cherokee, I’m told.
Don’t remember Oklahoma. Its been so long since I left home.
Its like I’ve always been in prison. Like I’ve always been alone.
I 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. He laid face down on the floor.
Guess I’ll never know what made me tell him “Walk back to that door.”.
I shot him. Rang like thunder. My ears rang like a bell.
No one come a runnin’. So I just called the cops myself.
They took their time to get there. And I believe I coulda run.
I know I should be feeling something. But I never cried a tear, one.
-Hell, I didn’t even make the papers. Cause I only killed one man.
My trial was over quickly, then a hard long wait 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.
Now, the wait is over. And as the final hour drags by,
I won’t stand here and tell you that I don’t deserve to die.
There’s 97 men here. We’re mostly black, or brown, and we’re all poor.
Yea, and most of us are guilty, but who are you to say for sure?
Soon the preacher comes to get me. They shave off all my hair.
Could you take that long walk with me? Knowing hell was waiting there?
Could you pull that switch yourself, sir? With a sure and steady hand?
And then go home and tell yourself, sir, that you’re better than I am?
My name is Billy Austin. I’m 29 years old.
I was born in Oklahoma. A quarter Cherokee, I’m told.
Billy Austin By: Steve Earle
My name is Billy Austin. I'm 29 years old.
I was born in Oklahoma. A quarter Cherokee, I’m told.
Don’t remember Oklahoma. Its been so long since I left home.
Its like I’ve always been in prison. Like I’ve always been alone.
I 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. He laid face down on the floor.
Guess I’ll never know what made me tell him “Walk back to that door.”.
I shot him. Rang like thunder. My ears rang like a bell.
No one come a runnin’. So I just called the cops myself.
They took their time to get there. And I believe I coulda run.
I know I should be feeling something. But I never cried a tear, one.
-Hell, I didn’t even make the papers. Cause I only killed one man.
My trial was over quickly, then a hard long wait 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.
Now, the wait is over. And as the final hour drags by,
I won’t stand here and tell you that I don’t deserve to die.
There’s 97 men here. We’re mostly black, or brown, and we’re all poor.
Yea, and most of us are guilty, but who are you to say for sure?
Soon the preacher comes to get me. They shave off all my hair.
Could you take that long walk with me? Knowing hell was waiting there?
Could you pull that switch yourself, sir? With a sure and steady hand?
And then go home and tell yourself, sir, that you’re better than I am?
My name is Billy Austin. I’m 29 years old.
I was born in Oklahoma. A quarter Cherokee, I’m told.