Brooklyn Boy

Brooklyn boy, born and raised, chopping lines

Hey, hey, it's my birthday

It's a toy I torched, a tar pit flame, a lockjaw night

Hey, hey, it's my birthdayDead end friends that make your stomach shake

While your hissing head barrels down that blackened lane

Alone at last to figure how you got this way

Alone at last to figure how you got this wayCharcoal clouds spot and spray, they kill the sun

Hey hey, hear its back break

So I can never tell night from day or right from wrong

Hey hey, you're my headacheYour silver tongue it masks your hungry hate

While your haggard heart whispers through it's cracking cage

You still can change, you have to know, you still can change

I know, I know, for now I wanna be this way