| Yeah |
| The bottom of the barrel, it looks just like the top |
| I been turning this thing over in my mind and I can’t stop |
| On the long slow trip to the middle |
| Where there’s nothing much to see |
| I popped my cork and lit a cigarette |
| Singing «poor, poor, pitiful me» |
| But don’t nobody wanna hear it |
| And baby, I agree |
| Yeah, I’m way down here where don’t nobody ever wanna be |
| Now when I look back on Memphis |
| The money’s all I see |
| I’ve heard we had some good times |
| That don’t ring no bells for me |
| And your kin folk down in Dallas |
| (Goddamn, I never did like that town) |
| And the police down in crowder |
| Captain Who’s It’s What’s His Clown |
| Guess everybody saw it coming |
| Maybe 'cept for you and me |
| How we wound up down where don’t nobody ever wanna be |
| I chew with the teeth god gave me |
| And I spit with an angels tongue |
| When the first one fell, drug me to hell |
| I said, damned, now ain’t this fun |
| I guess I never was good at lonely |
| So I came round to call for tea |
| Way down here where don’t nobody ever wanna be |
| Alright |
| Well |
| Tommy won’t be around forever |
| And I always did like his style |
| It’s a be bop beat with a poetic streak |
| And a carnie barkin' satchmo smile |
| You do what you do till it’s over |
| Then you do what you can to get by |
| Baby, I don’t know how low I go |
| With this cockroach dream to survive |
| So I’m doubling down on nothing |
| Some hands you gotta see to believe |
| Way down here where don’t nobody ever wanna be |
| I don’t wanna hear about all gods blessings |
| From sea to shining sea |
| From some pew jumping man with a Jim Jones plan |
| Promising to set me free |
| I bought a bouquet of fresh dead flowers |
| And a bottle of Beaujolais |
| I’ll get drunk between your thighs then close my eyes |
| Pretending that I don’t pray |
| That you’ll love me, while you have me |
| And when I leave, don’t follow me |
| Way down here where don’t nobody ever wanna be |