At night only crickets
No prowlers, no sirens
No pinky ring hustlers
No angel dust Byrons
No bars on the windows
No sabre-toothed neighbors
Just good simple folk
In a rainbow of flavors

Somewhere in America
There's a street named after my dad
And the home we never had

I'll work for Mr. Fowler
Making fifty cents an hour
And I'll save what I can
So I can get a piece of land
I'll raise some cows and carrots
Get ahead on my own merits
And if I fall I'll take it like a man

Somewhere in America
There's a street named after my dad
And the home we never had

No more bland TV dinners
No ten car collisions
No showbiz beginners
Making global decisions<br /> No daycare Fellinis
No fast food assassins
No billboard bikinis
Just truth and compassion

Somewhere in America
There's a street named after my dad
And the home we never had
The home we never had somewhere in America