12 acessos
(intro) A D A E A E D
A D A E
I was eight years old and running with a dime in my hand
A E D
Into the bus stop to pick up a paper for my old man
A D A E
I'd sit on his lap in that big old Buick and steer as we drove through town
E A E D
He'd tousle my hair and say son take a good look around
A D A E A E D A
This is your hometown, this is your hometown, this is your hometown, this is your hometown
A D A E
In `65 tension was running high at my high school
A E D
There was a lot of fights between the black and white there was nothing you could do
A D A E
Two cars at a light on a Saturday night in the back seat there was a gun
E A E D
Words were passed in a shotgun blast troubled times had come
A D A E A E D A
To my hometown, my hometown, my hometown, my hometown
F#m A
Now Main Street's whitewashed windows and vacant stores
F#m A
Seems like there ain't nobody wants to come down here no more
D A
They're closing down the textile mill across the railroad tracks
D A E
Foreman says these jobs are going boys and they ain't coming back to
A D A E A E D A
Your hometown, your hometown, your hometown, your hometown
D A E
Last night me and Kate we laid in bed talking about getting out
A E D
Packing up our bags maybe heading south
A D A E
I'm thirty-five we got a boy of our own now
A E D
Last night I sat him up behind the wheel and said son take a good look around
A A A D A E E E A E D (repeat to fade)
This is your hometown