My hometown

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I was eight years old

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and run-ning with a dime in my hand

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In-to the bus stop to pick up

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 a pa-per for my old- man -

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I'd sit on his lap in that big old Bu-ick 

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and steer as we drove through town

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He'd tou-sle my hair and say,

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"son take a good look a-round-

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This is your home-town,

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this is your home- town

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This is your home-town,

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this is your home- town -

verse 2.
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
My hometown, my hometown, my hometown

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Now Main Street's white-washed win-dows

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and va-cant stores- -

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Seems like there ain't no-bod-y

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wants to come down here no more

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They're clos-ing down the tex-tile mill

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a-cross the rail-road tracks- -
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Fore-man says these jobs are go-ing boys

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and they ain't com-ing - back to

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Your home-town, your home - town,

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your home-town, your home - town -

verse 3.
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