I was eight years old 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 a big old Buick Steer as we drove through town

tousle my hair say son take a good look a round

This is your hometown

This is your hometown

This is your hometown

Your home town

In sixty five tension was running high at my high school

There was lot of fights between black and white

There was nothing you could do

Two cars in a lot on a Saturday night

back seat there was a gun

Words were passed shotgun blast

Troubled times had come

To my hometown

My home town

My home town

my home town

Now main street white washed windows and vacant stores

Seems like there ain't nobody wants to come down here no more

They're closing down the textile mill 'cross the railway track

Forman says these jobs are going boys and they arn't coming back

Your home town

Your home town

Your home town

Your home town

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 home town.

My Hometown by Bruce Springsteen