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Tore Down Flat In Jackson lyrics
Filthy and anonymous in Jackson, a dozen keys to nowhere in his hand
Black madonna, won t you change his luck and find him fifty grand?
Cause he s tore down, months from nowhere, with the day-to-day out of his hands

One key fit the door to their apartment, another fit the business he let die
A stray dog whines as the August rains turn naked ground to mud
And he s tore down, feelin nothin but the third-rate spirits in his blood

He s livin for a ticket on the whiskey train
The saddest thing s to see him venerate that ball and chain

Roadhouse corn done cut his strings to somewhere, paper rich done met a ball of fire
Black dog cloud done filled his head and drained him like a vampire
Now he s tore down flat in Jackson with a daily gig in the backdrop choir

He s livin for a ticket on the whiskey train
The saddest thing s to see him venerate that ball and chain

A thick late August field of pigweed dances, a T.V. from the fillin station s heard
He s holdin up the wall, the moment says it all without a word
Well, he s tore down, world stopped movin when halfway to the label claimed it cured
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