Brooklyn Lyrics

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.