| D | A | Bm | F#m | G | D | A | |
| Of | all the | stupid | things I | could have | thought | this was the worst |
| D | A | Bm | F#m | G | D | A | |
| I | started | to be | lieve that | I was | born at | seventeen |
| D | A | Bm | F#m | G | D | A | |
| And | all the | stupid | things, the | letters | and the | broken verse |
| D | A | Bm | F#m | G | D | A | |
| Stayed | hidden | at the | bottom | of the | drawer, they'd | always been |
| D | A | Bm | F#m | G | D | A | |
| And | now I | plough through | files of | bills rec | eipts and | credit cards |
| D | A | Bm | F#m | G | A | |
| and | tickets | and the | daily | news and sometimes I just | wanna go back to my |
| Chorus |
| D | F#m | G | A | |
| Home | Town, though I | know it'll never be the | same |
| D | F#m | G | |
| Back to my | home | town, 'cause it's | been so long, |
| A F#m (???) |
| and I'm wondering if it's still there. |
| We think we're pretty smart, us city slickers get around |
| And when the goping's rough we kill the pain and relocate |
| We're never married, never faithful not to any town |
| But we never leave the past behind it just accumulates |
| So sometimes when the music stops I seem to hear a distant sound |
| Of waves and seagulls, football crowds and churchbells |
| Chorus |
| Chorus |