| Oh you can see it when you close your eyes
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| A Norman Rockwell painting come to life
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| With all the colors of a stained-glass window
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| All the characters and old dogs and kin folk
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| And it smells like bar-b-que and old garden roses
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| Yells like cheerleaders and football coaches
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| And it walks like a mayor and it dances like a prom
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| And it sleeps like a porch and it cooks like your mama
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| Hometown, hometown
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| May be the sweetest word with the sweetest sound
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| Hometown
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| And it’s growing like tomatoes on the vine
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| Fading like a Dr. Pepper sign
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| Still preaching like a Pentecostal
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| And fishing like a backslider
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| And pulling little sisters in bright red radio flyers
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| And it marches in the veteran’s day parade
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| And it proudly lets old glory wave
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| It’s rodeos and county fairs
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| All farris wheels and canned up pears
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| It’ll let you go just to welcome you back
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| No it don’t get no better than that
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| Our hometown, yeah your hometown, hey our hometown, your hometown
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| Oh you can see it when you close your eyes |