text: 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
  Id sit on his lap in that big old Buick and steer as we drove through town
  Hed 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 lots 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, then a shotgun blast
  Troubled times had come
  To my hometown
  To my hometown
  To my hometown
  To my hometown
  Now Main Streets whitewashed windows and vacant stores
  Seems like there aint nobody wants to come down here no more
  Theyre closing down the textile mills cross the railroad tracks
  Foreman says These jobs are going, boys, and they aint coming back
  To your hometown
  To your hometown
  To your hometown
  To your hometown
  Last night me and Kate, we laid in bed talking bout getting out
  Packing up our bags maybe heading south
  Im thirty-five, we got a boy of our own now
  Last night I sat him up behind the wheel, said Son take a good look around
  This is your hometown
  This is your hometown
  This is your hometown
  This is your hometown