Luyện nghe bài hát Tore Down Flat In Jackson

Filthy and anonymous in Jackson, a dozen keys to nowhere in his
Black madonna, you change his luck and find him fifty grand?
'Cause tore down, months from nowhere, with the day-to-day out of his hands

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

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

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

livin' for a ticket on the whiskey train
The 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
He's holdin' up the wall, the moment says it all without a
Well, he's tore down, world stopped when 'halfway to the label' claimed it cured