My Home Town

I was eight years old, and runnin' with
A dime in my hand
To the bus stop, to pick up a paper
For my old man
I'd sit in his lap
In that big old Buick
And steer as we drove through town
He'd tossle my hair
And say, "son take
A good look around
This is your home town
This is your home town
This is your home town
This is your home town

In '65, tension was runnin' high
At my high school
There was lot of fights
Tween the black and white
There was nothin' 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 home town
My home town
My home town
My home town

Now Main Street's whitewashed windows
And vacant stores
Seems like there ain't nobody
Who wants to come down here no more
They're closin' down the textile mill
'cross the railroad tracks
Foreman said these jobs are goin' boys
And they ain't comin' back
To your home town
Your home town
Your home town
Your hometown

Last nite, me and Kate
We lay in bed
And talked about gettin' out
Packin up our bags
Maybe headin' South
I'm thirty five
We got a boy
Of our own now
Last night I set him up
Behind the wheel
And said, "son take a good look around
This is your home town"