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If you're headin' down the highway |
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Down about route ten, |
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Get off at the last exit |
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And take it around the bend |
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You'll find a small town |
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But don't go hangin' 'round. |
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'Cause hate lives in a small town |
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'Least that's what I have found. |
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Moms are in the kitchens |
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And they're baking pies. |
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They smell so good, they're made to |
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Cover up the smell of lies |
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There in a small town. |
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But pies don't cure all ills. |
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And hate lives in a small town, |
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That's why those moms take pills. |
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Well, I went to the big city |
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And everyone was wearing black. |
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They saw that in my home town, |
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They wouldn't stand for that. |
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I saw kids all covered in tattoos, |
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With mohawks and purple hair. |
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But what really struck me, |
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Was no one seemed to care! |
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Well, the Knights they beat the Badgers |
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When they played down on the square |
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But they saved the biggest beatings |
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For a kid with longish hair. |
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They're in a small town. |
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That kid was me one year. |
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'Cause hate lives in a small town |
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Moreso if you seem queer. |
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The pastors in the pulpit, |
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Preaching righteous lies. |
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And the congregation, they don't know |
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He slept with all their wives. |
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They're in a small town, |
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And it's so plain to see |
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That hate lives in a small town, |
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As does adultery. |
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I went to the big city, |
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With my clothes in a pack. |
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When I got off at the station, |
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There was no turning back. |
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I met freaks and creeps and weirdos, |
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Loose women and some geeks. |
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And they were the nicest gosh darn people, |
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I could ever hope to meet. |
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When you roll into a small town, |
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They're nice as they can be. |
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But at night they put on sheets, |
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And hang your sad ass from a tree. |
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They're in a small town, |
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Don't dare be different. |
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'Cause hate lives in a small town |
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Unless you're just like them. |
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If you're living in a small town, |
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And you feel you're in a vice. |
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Just buy yourself a ticket, kid, |
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Just take my advice. |
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And leave the small town, |
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Be quick as you can be. |
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Get out of that small town, |
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And you'll be free like me. |
