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 and
Steer as we drove through town
He'd tousle my hari 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 light on a Saturday night
In the back seat there wasa gun
Words were passed, in a shotgun blast
Troubled times had come, to my hometown
My hometown
My hometown
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 railroadtracks
Foreman says these jobs are going boys
And they ain't 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 and 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 goold look around
This is your hometown