Tin Town

Have you been down to Tin Town, where dreams in cans
once were drowned.
A snag somewhere in someone's life caught him there,
pulled him to strife.
A bottle here, and there are left. Many broken, the air
is deaf.
With non-understanding vows, remember tears upon their
brows.
In Tin Town, has-been town. Tin Town, has-been town.

A tiny flag upon a mast, where camptown children played
in past.
A river winding through the trees. Banks eroded,
extreme degrees.
Once a place to be baptized, when pentecostal need
arise.
A shank or two with rotted plank. A fish or two, their
eyes are blank.
In Tin Town, has-been town. Tin Town, has-been town.

Well I been down to Tin Town, where once a boy I did
fall down.
And cut my arm on piled up junk. I wrapped it up and I
hailed a drunk.
He carried me three miles to home, where daddy said I
was cut to the bone.
The doctor washed his hands and said, "Five more
minutes, the boy'd been dead."
Down where people lose their heads.
In Tin Town, has-been town. Tin Town, has-been town. I
know you well.

Well I live here in Tin Town. Not many people come
around.
When when they do I smile at them. And say, "Hello,
it's a mighty hot day.
Can you spare a man a dime? I got thirty cents and I
can buy some wine.
I'm livin' in my childhood schemes. Please, mister, you
can make my dreams (you can make my dreams!)."
In Tin Town, has-been town. Tin Town, has-been town.
It's my home. It's my home. It's my home. It's my home.