My Hometown

I was eight years old and running with a dime in my hand Into the bus stop to pick up a paper for my old man I'd sit on his lap in that big old Buick, steer as we drove through town Tousle my hair, say, "Son, take a good look around" This is your hometown This is your hometown This is your hometown This is your hometown In '65 tension was running high at my high school Was a lot of fights 'tween the black and white, there was nothing you could do Two cars at a light on a Saturday night, in the backseat there was a gun Words were passed, shotgun blast, troubled times had come To my hometown To my hometown To my hometown To my hometown Now Main Street's whitewashed windows and vacant stores Seems like there ain't nobody wants to come down here no more They're closing down the textile mill 'cross the railroad tracks Foreman says, "These jobs are going, boys, and they ain't coming back" To your hometown Your hometown To your hometown To your hometown Last night me and Kate, we laid in bed talking 'bout getting out Packing up our bags, maybe heading south I'm 35, we got a boy of our own now Last night I sat him up behind the wheel and said "Son, take a good look around" This is your hometown