[Part 1]
Up here on the hill it's starting to rain
The sun's disappearing through my windowpane
And everything's still in my room

Then a trolley goes by with its clattering sound
Like a clock on the wall when the rain coming down
And somebody's chattering way down the hall from my room

From my room, I see old town
Crook town, wop town, and spic town
Black town, shack town, and hick town, from my room

Looking down through the rain, I think the future's going my way
And there's a freeway coming soon right through this dirty old room
Can't you see a 50-story building where a palm tree used to be?

[Part 2]
Now I like a town that's flat, I like a street that's tame
You take out the trash, they all do the same
But get right back inside and remain until notified
In my town

I want a town that's clean and I want a rule that's maintained
If you're brown, back down, if you're black, get back
Better white than right, better dead than red
Better keep it contained in my town
Now, in my town, I'm the big cheese
Don't like all those commie rats in the palm trees
Up there in Chavez Ravine
They come down here to City Hall
Creating a big scene, crying "foul ball"
We'll put the head rat on the stand
"Are you now or have you ever been?"
Chief runs a make, director runs the names
I write the rules, I call the game
There's the pitch, it's good
There goes your old neighborhood
Tell the mayor duck out the back
Tell the monsignor keep the deal under his hat
Chavez Ravine plugged up, Bunker Hill ripped down
Cement mixers spreading the word around
This here is my town
It's my town

[Instrumental Break]

[Outro: Part 1 Reprise]
Then the trolley stops by on its way down the hill
And somebody's passing by my window sill
No shoes on the stairs and no knock at the door
Of my room, of my room, of my room
Why should I go down?
Why should I go down?