In This Town, When It Rains_There Are Years That Wash Off Towers And The Trains._And The Splashing Sounds Like Laughing_As It Rolls And It Slides Off The Ceilings And The Sides_Of The Towers And The Trains.__There?s A Blacklist. A Deep, Black Malice._Scars So Deep, They?re Taught To Children,_That Live With People ?Till The Grave._Folks Can?t Shake ?Em, Twist Or Break ?Em._They Find Themselves Condemned To Burnout._They Rust And Crack, And Then They Turn Out Like _The Towers And The Trains.__Nothing Beats Them Downtown Streets,_They Can?t Keep A Dream Alive._The Women Talking, Men Hard-Rocking._How Will I Survive?__We Got Issues From All The Misuse._We Got Wasted Youth And Missing Persons Who?ve Got Nothing Left To Do But Age._They Sit On Their Porches, Lit By Torches,_And If You Listen In The Stillness, You?ll Hear Them Singing About Their Illness:_The Towers And The Trains.__Nothing Beats Them Downtown Streets,_They Can?t Keep A Dream Alive._The Women Talking, Men Hard-Rocking._How Will I Survive?__In My Town, When It Rains. There Are Years That Wash Off Towers And The Trains._And The Splashing Sounds Like Laughing_As It Rolls And It Slides Off The Ceilings And The Sides_Of The Towers And The Trains.__Off The Towers And The Trains?