A̸T̸T̸O̸ P̸R̸I̸M̸O̸
ʷᵉˡᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰᵒᵐᵉᵗᵒʷⁿ

i was eight years old
and running with a dime
in my hand to the bus
top to pick up a paper
for my old man. i'd sit
on his lap in that big old
buick and steer as we
drove through town. he'd
tousle my hair and say,
"son, take a good look around"
this is your hometown
this is your hometown
this is your hometown
this is your hometown".