"Smalltown" as written by and Nigel/bruce Hunter....
And every morning comes too soon
All your nights are sleepless
Poison arrows
To ruin your tomorrows
Below suspicion
Cafes full of people dressed as spies
And all I know
Is guilt for being different
It's always raining stones
There's a killer in the home
In a small town
Everybody looks the same
There are unwritten rules
Unspoken words
Should I pack my fear and go?
I have to leave somehow
Before they run me out of town
I have to leave somehow

Lyrics submitted by weezerific:cutlery

"Smalltown" as written by Duncan Bruce Judith Abbott

Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

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Smalltown song meanings
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    General CommentThis is the text for this song that was ommitted from the North American version of the "Tubthumper" CD:

    When you can't change small minds... you have to leave them behind.

    "People act upon their immediate, distorted impulses without thinking. Violence pacifies them. They overpower their victims like a pack of wild dogs. Like a swarm of bees they attack. Fights arise from stupid conversations and silly misunderstandings until someone gets hurt. If a person thinks or looks different, people condemn by reflex. Fuck that! I root for the underdog in all situations."
    --Answer Me! Magazine

    "I think that any time a woman expresses her sexuality in an honest or unusual way , it becomes a political act because we are so discouraged from doing that. It takes guts to openly express aspects of your gender that are "socially unacceptable." And anything that disrupts the status quo and pisses people off is political."
    --Brad Clit, drag king, from "Pucker Up", 1996

    "the fucking view is fucking vile / for fucking miles and fucking miles / the fucking babies fucking cry / the fucking flowers fucking die / the fucking food is fucking muck / the fucking drains are fucking fucked / the colour scheme is fucking brown / everywhere in chicken town / the fucking pubs are fucking dull / the fucking clubs are fucking full / of fucking girls and fucking guys / with fucking murder in their eyes / a fucking bloke is fucking stabbed / waiting for a fucking cab / you fucking stay at fucking home / the fucking neighbours fucking moan / keep the fucking racket down / this is fucking chicken town"
    --John Cooper Clarke, from 'Evidently Chicken Town'

    "The answers you seek / Will never be found at home / The love that you need / Will never be found at home..."
    --From Bronski Beat's 'Smalltown Boy', 1984

    --Front page headline on news that Snoop Doggy Dog would be visiting Britain, Daily Star, February 1994

    "'Can I turn the telly off for a minute? I really need to tell you something.' When he said he was gay, there was silence. His mother's jaw dropped and her eyes were full of tears. Then his father went into the hall, chucked Darren his coat, and told him to 'sling his hook'. At the time Darren didn't know any other homosexual people, so he wandered the streets in the city where he lived for three nights, till his mother came looking for him. He went back home but only his mum and one sister talked to him. Two weeks later, after a big family party, when a fight broke out between him and his brothers, Darren wrote a note saying, 'Sorry I'm gay, love son and brother Darren', and took 103 paracetomol tablets. Extraordinarily, he was woken up by an ambulance man because his father had had a heart attack! It wasn't until two days later that he went to a doctor in terrible pain and was rushed to hospital. After three weeks of treatment he had recovered enough to return home to his family. His belongings were packed and waiting for him in the dining room. Darren's father had also recovered, but told his son to leave and never return."
    --When Your Child Comes Out, Anne Lowell, 1995

    "The world is your oyster... but the future's your clam."
    --Paul Weller, 1979

    "I yawn, I'm tired, I'm sorry / I sneeze, I blow my nose / I'm so hungry Oh Look! / I ate my food with the wrong knife and fork / I wear my collar undone / I will not wear a tie / They won't let me into their disco / They refuse to tell me why / Because I'm dressed informal / Because I'm dressed informally - That's why"
    --Patrik Fitzgerald, 1979

    "I myself have often wondered why it took so long for anyone to get around to 'taking me in for questioning', considering that I used to waltz along the streets of the West End totally unaware that they were infested by plain clothes coppers. Though they did not arrest me till 1943, they knew that I was in a weak position and constantly threatened me for their own and one another's amusement. Their condescension towards me on these occasions will never fade from my mind. Even now I could never wittingly become acquainted with a policeman; nor would I, except under torture, betray anyone to the authorities. Life is so hard for poor little crooks at the best of times. I imagine that these opinions which I hold so intensely are, in a milder form, fairly common. As a former police chief has himself said, 'If the police were popular there would be something wrong somewhere.'"
    --Quentin Crisp, from How To Become A Virgin, 1981

    "Habit is probably the greatest block to seeing truth."
    --RA Schwallerda Lipicz
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