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Well I'm a poor boy from Wabash, they call me oil trash |
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I've rubber-necked and rousted around |
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And every damn job the boss he says "Hoss, |
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It ain't worth pumping from the ground" |
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So I come here to Boomtown doing just fine |
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Till the shit hits the fan, alright |
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Now I can't get no pay and I'm wasting away |
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Flushed out and busted in Boomtown tonight |
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My baby she's mad, she thinks I'm all bad |
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She'd like to see me work myself to death |
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She said "Go out and get yourself another damn job" |
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I said "Honey, just save your breath" |
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Oh that sweet little thing, she threw back my ring |
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I bet she held it up to the light |
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Now the kids are all yakking, my baby she's packing |
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Flushed out and busted in Boomtown tonight |
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Oh Boomtown is busted, the rigs are all rusted |
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There's no lights on my Christmas tree |
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Well I tried El Paso and I tried Amarillo |
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But I didn't find a drop of Texas tea |
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Well they hit us when we're down, and we can't get up |
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Though we're trying with all of our might |
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Now the bottle's run dry and I'm wondering why |
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Flushed out and busted in Boomtown tonight |
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Yes I'm flushed out and busted in Boomtown tonight |
