Hey "Mr. I'm a hardass from Brooklyn"
in the Wawa.
Store all you're winter food away
All summer long while the idiots play,
and smoke, and drink their wine.
With a viola and a coat thats made of glass.
You're freezing fast.
Your arctic hands won't move.

I start out on a weeknight.
Got money.
Everything is A-alright for me.
"Hey honey! Nice shoes.
That's funny.
Want to know me like I know about you?"
If, in fact, you do.
At the gates of dawn, when the piper plays the tune.
You'll see it all.
Even my freckled youth.



Lyrics submitted by shoegazin

Brooklyn song meanings
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