I'm going home, I'm smoking my last cigarettenThe muffler shop's shouting that she's in the citynThe North Frozen Landfill I just can't forgetn'Cause it marks the town of my pitynOrion TownnnOh now Rochester, you son of a bitchnYour psyches and streets are a tumult of achin'nThe awkwardest memories I just can't unstitchnAt least they know they're not forsaken innOrion TownnnI-75 is the swallower of ChristmasnThe gloom of its gladness is night on our shouldersnConnecting our sorrows like ponds with an isthmusnFrozen and covered with boulders innOrion TownnnThe yelling, the holler of the ghost I have squanderednThe snow combed tight brightly mirrored false wonder therenThat I did follow to the frozen waternAs my family stood there and stared atnOrion Town