My Hometown, Too

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 '82 tension was running high at my high school
There was a lot of fights between the snobs and me
There was nothing they would do

Two cars at a light on a Saturday night
In the back seat there coulda been a gun
Words were passed and in a verbal blast
Troubled times they had come, to my hometown

My hometown
My hometown
My hometown

Now Main Street's white washed windows and vacant stores
Seems like there ain't nobody wants to come down here no more

They're closing down the middle class jobs across the highway signs
My father said those jobs are going, Joey, and they ain't coming back
To our hometown

Our hometown
Our hometown
Our hometown

Last night me and Brit, we laid in bed
Talking about getting out
Packing up our bags, maybe heading west
I'm forty-five and we got four boys of our own now
Last night I sat John John up behind the wheel and said son take a good look around

This is our hometown