"Hometown, Population 144,000"Words and Music by Sean Taylor
St. Francis up on top of the hill
Twelve dirty breadcrumbs in his hand
Casting them all upon the waters of the river
But poor St. Francis, he is already dead
Old Martha Peterson runs the dollar store
She sell you lots of junk for a buck, no more
But dear old Martha, she is no man's whore
She may be cheap, but she is honest
Sweet Tony Peters with the biggest mouth
He'll tell you stories 'bout the Glorious South
But watch him stop and cry when his luck runs out
Then blow his nose and start all over
Miss Mary Pickens never wore the white gown
Or tried a ring from any man's offer
She bragged about it in the beauty shop
Still no one asked her about the coffins
Mayor Albert Smith, he sleeps alone till noon
Then counts the coins in his big glass jar
Washes his hands, scrubs them with a pad
Before he takes his pills at supper
Town poet Arthur Johnson with his gun sitting in his lap
Says the world he writes of is a fat load of crap
And that nothing rhymes now, and not there's not meter enough
To understand, to understand, to understand anything truthful
Thinker Bill Williams rolls his cart down the alley
Sleep in the street with a cap for a pillow
He rails about peace and equality and justice
Couldn't tell you a damn thing about them
Preacher John Heller at the bottom of town
Irons his collar tabs up and button flaps down
Walking back and forth often he rails with a frown
Knowing God will find him deserving
Find him deserving...
The newest resident, a child with no name
Will soon bear his marker and will live with its shame
He only goos and gahs and passes gas in his diaper
Still wet with his morning's discourse on relativism
It's my hometown...
To listen, visit http://soundclick.com/share.cfm?id=8120834
Yes, that's blatant symbolism all throughout the song. No, it doesn't make much sense in a literal interpretation.
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