Mixed with somber messages, too, are moments when prisoners reach for levity. Inmates have referred to their favorite sports teams, cheering on the Dallas Cowboys and the Texas Rangers. Others have turned to gallows humor.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve been hanging around this popsicle stand way too long,\u201d said Douglas Roberts, who was executed in 2005 after he was convicted in a 1996 robbery and murder. \u201cBefore I leave, I want to tell you all. When I die, bury me deep, lay two speakers at my feet, put some headphones on my head and rock and roll me when I\u2019m dead.\u201d<\/p>\n
Others spoke with little fanfare.<\/p>\n
\u201cLet\u2019s do it, man,\u201d G.W. Green told the warden<\/a> in 1991 before he was executed for the 1976 robbery and shooting death of a juvenile probation officer. \u201cLock and load. Ain\u2019t life a [expletive]?\u201d<\/p>\n None expressed fear of dying.<\/p>\n Condemned inmates in Texas spend an average of 11 years on death row, according to the Department of Criminal Justice. They often find camaraderie in how they are isolated, in their protracted legal fights and in the agonizing period when their execution dates near.<\/p>\n Those bonds become immortalized through final words.<\/p>\n