Throwing Strikes

I was raised in this mill hill town
That's where my family settled down,
Daddy worked the mill like the folks we knew.
When I grew up, I'd probably work there, too.
But in high school, on the baseball team,
I threw a no-hitter against The Rebels one Spring.
Scouts came around…
And I was packing up to leave this town.

Spent 2 years in Florida, one out West,
Small town, I'd been the very best.
But turned out my best wasn't good enough,
And after spring training, I got cut.
So I tucked my tail and came back home.
Just to find out the mill was gone

CHORUS
The tallest building in our town is empty as a shell,
Now the houses all around it are emptying as well.
I'm just gathering stones down by the pike.
Tonight, I'll be out there throwing strikes.

I crack open a beer in an overgrown field.
Stare up at the forgotten mill
48 windows, each with 36 panes,
No fancy stuff, just a strong-armed aim.
Like flying 'cross the plate on opening night
The sound of breaking glass cuts the quiet.

Cops roll by me, they don't even care.
Yeah, it's almost like this place ain't even there.