Three Fifty Seven

3:57 IN THE MORNING, A .357 IN MY HAND
THREE HUNDRED FIFTY SEVEN DOLLARS
CAN’T WASH THE BLOODSTAINS FROM MY HANDS

I ONLY DID IT FOR THE MONEY, DID NOT MEAN TO DO NO HARM
YOU KNOW IT HOLDS NO VALUE TO ME
I’LL ONLY SHOOT IT UP MY ARM

WHY’D THE DAMN FOOL HAVE TO FIGHT ME, OR HE’D BE WALKIN’ ROUND TODAY
I CAN’T SAY I REALLY BLAME HIM
I COULDA TURNED AND WALKED AWAY

THREE HUNDRED FIFTY SEVEN HOURS, TIL THE STATE OF TEXAS ENDS MY LIFE
IT’S NOT SO MUCH THE FACT OF DYIN’
BUT THE WAITIN’ CUTS YOU LIKE A KNIFE

IF I COULD I’D MAKE IT RIGHT, NOW
BUT ONLY DEATH CAN BRING RELEASE
ABOUT THE BEST THAT I CAN HOPE FOR
MAYBE FIND A LITTLE PEACE

3:57 IN THE MORNING, A .357 IN MY HAND
THREE HUNDRED FIFTY SEVEN DOLLARS
CAN’T WASH THE BLOODSTAINS FROM MY HANDS
FROM MY HANDS, FROM MY HANDS, FROM MY HANDS (X3)

3:57 IN THE MORNING, THE WARDEN COMES INTO MY CELL
I TAKE THAT LONG WALK FOR THE LAST TIME
LESS THAN HALF A BLOCK FROM HELL
LESS THAN HALF A BLOCK FROM HELL
LESS THAN HALF A BLOCK FROM HELL