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
Iíd sit on his lap in that big old Buick and steer as we drove through town
Heíd tousle my hair and say son take a good look around, this is you hometown
This is your hometown
This is your hometown
This is your hometown

In í65 tension was running high at my high school
There was a lot of fights between the black and white
There was nothing you could do
Two cars at a light on a Saturday night, in the back seat there was a gun
Words were passed, in a shotgun blast
Troubled times had come, to my hometown
My hometown
My hometown
My hometown

Now Main Streetís whitewashed windows and vacant stores
Seems like there ainít nobody wants to come down here no more
Theyíre closing down the textile mill across the railroad tracks
Foreman says these jobs are going boys and they ainít coming back to your hometown
Your hometown
Your hometown
Your hometown

Last night me and Kate we laid in bed
Talking about getting out
Packing up our bags maybe heading south
Iím thirty-five, 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