My Hometown
Bruce Springsteen
G G C G D
D D G D C
GI was eight years old and running with a Cdime Gin my Dhand
DInto the bus stop to pick up a paper for Gmy Dold Cman
GI'd sit on his lap in that big old Buick and Csteer as we Gdrove through Dtown
DHe'd tousle my hair and he'd say son take a Ggood Dlook Caround
GThis is your hometown, this is Cyour Ghome Dtown
DThis is your hometown, this is Gyour Dhome CtownG
GIn '65 tension was running high at Cmy Ghigh Dschool
DThere was a lot of fights between the black and white / there was Gnothing Dyou could Cdo
Two Gcars at a light on a Saturday night, in the Cback seat Gthere was a Dgun
DWords were passed, a shotgun blast / troubled Gtimes Dhad Ccome
To Gmy hometown, to Cmy Ghome Dtown,
To Dmy hometown, to Gmy Dhome CtownG
Now EmMain Street's whitewashed windows and Gvacant stores
Seems Emlike there ain't nobody wants to come Gdown here no more
They're Cclosing down the textile mill Gacross the railroad tracks
Foreman Csays these jobs are going boys and Gthey ain't coming Dback
To Gyour hometown, Cyour Ghome Dtown,
To Dyour hometown, to Gyour Dhome CtownG
GLast night me and Kate, we laid in bed Ctalking about Ggetting Dout
DPacking up our bags, maybe GheaDding Csouth
I'm Gthirty-five, we got a boy of Cour Gown Dnow
DLast night I sat him up behind the wheel and said Gson take a Dgood look CaroundC
This is Gyour hometownCGD
D G D C
G G C G D
D D G D C