There's a church on a hill.
House's in the valley.
Broken down factorie's where our grandad's use to work.
They built American dream's.
They built American car's and airplane's.
Some walk home empty.
The fall of fifty three.
I know what your thinking.
Gonna get out of here breathing.
All that money it makes men spend.
Going back to the city.
Going back to the city.
They ran back to the farm's.
They ran back to their small children.
They ate what they could scramble.
When the rain would cease to come.
I know what your thinking.
Gonna get out of here breathing.
All that money it makes men spend.
Going back to the city.
Going back to the city.
And the man at the bank.
That dirty S.O.B you trusted.
Who sold your land and busted all the acre's of your dream's.
I know what your thinking.
Gonna get out of here breathing.
All that money it make's men spend.
Going back to the city.
Going back to the city
Going back to the city.
Going back to the city.
Dream.

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