My Hometown

I was eight years old

And running with a dime in my hand

To the bus stop to pick

Up a paper for my old man

I'd sit on his lap in that big old Buick

And steer as we drove through town

He'd tousle my hair

And 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

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

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

Across the railroad tracks

Foreman says, "These jobs are going, boys

And they ain't coming back

To your hometown

To your hometown

To your hometown

To your hometown

Last night me and Kate we laid in bed

Talking about getting out

Packing up our bags, maybe heading south

I'm 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