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
, im !mdpei iid!
Well, he's tore down, world stopped movin' when 'halfway to the label' claimed it cured S.o.j.a Tore Down Flat In Jackson songtext Suchen mit Google S.o.j.a Tore Down Flat In Jackson liedtext
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