At night only crickets No prowlers, no sirens No pinky ring hustlers No angel dust Byrons No bars on the windows No sabre-toothed neighbors Just good simple folk In a rainbow of flavors
Somewhere in America There's a street named after my dad And the home we never had
I'll work for Mr. Fowler Making fifty cents an hour And I'll save what I can
So I can get a piece of land I'll raise some cows and carrots Get ahead on my own merits And if I fall I'll take it like a man
Somewhere in America There's a street named after my dad And the home we never had
No more bland TV dinners No ten car collisions No showbiz beginners Making global decisions No daycare Fellinis No fast food assassins No billboard bikinis Just truth and compassion
Somewhere in America There's a street named after my dad And the home we never had The home we never had somewhere in America
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