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 birthday

Dead 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 way

Charcoal 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 headache

Your silver tongue it masks your hungry hate

While your haggard heart whispers through its 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

This was a choice, this was never a mistake