This can’t be quite normal,
This can’t be quite right,
Tommy’s got a CB radio,
That someone tried to hide
He knows it must be his father’s,
Who disappeared when he was born,
In the dark of his room

The lights are flashing
He listens all night long
Come on, come in,
The call goes out all over the land
Homemade antennas,
Hot-wired with tin
We’re staying up all night

On the citizen’s band

There’s thirteen years of dust,
On top of the little black box,
His mother hears him talking

To passing cars  and semi trucks,
She says his father is out there,
It sounds believable,
She says he’s in the interference

Between the clean signals
Come on, come in,
The call goes out all over the land
Homemade antennas,
Hot-wired with tin
We’re staying up all night

On the citizen’s band

And no one knows what to believe
Is he an idiot child

Or permanently naive?
Then a clean rush of static

Comes over the air
And he turns up the volume,
To see who’s there

Out where everyone is equal,
Just signals fading in and out,
Tommy’s waiting on a power surge
To blow the whole band out,
Until he’s sitting down
Talking to the stars
That light up his father’s house
Come on, come in,
The call goes out all over the land
We’re staying up all night

On the citizen’s band