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
This is your hometown
This is your hometown
This is your hometown