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'Tore Down Flat In Jackson' by 'Badlees'
from the album 'The Unfortunate Result Of Spare Time'
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Lyrics for 'Tore Down Flat In Jackson' by 'Badlees'
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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