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My Hometown - text

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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
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
A t 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

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
Your hometown
Your hometown
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

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