My Hometown

I was eight years old
Running with a dime in my hand
To the bus stop to pick up a paper
From my old man

I'd sit on his lap in the big old Buick
Stare as we drove through town
He'd tussle my hair and he'd 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 tensions were running high
In my high school

There was a lot of fights between black and whites
There was nothing you could do
Two cars in a light on a Saturday night
In the back seat there was a gun
The words were passed and 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
The 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 lay in bed
Talk about getting out
Back in the parklands
Or maybe heading south
I'm 35, we've got a boy of our own now
Last night I set him up behind the wheel
Said "Son, take a good look around
This is your hometown"