A Sad, Sad, Song Something in this town sure smells funny. There’s something here that just don’t seem right. Could be the houses, or maybe the people, but something here is burning tonight. I get the feeling a lot of people born here either get out, or stay and just die. Could be the workin’ or maybe just breathin’, but something here eats you inside. Nobody sets out to travel the hard road; nobody starts off singin’ a sad, sad song. But it’s all too easy to wake up one morning wondering how the hell it all went so wrong. Something in this town makes me think of burning leaves. There’s something here, could be heaven or hell. So I guess I’ll be leavin’ as soon as it’s morning: I probably could stay, except for the smell.