The Shwick, a terrifying light
I wonder what it is, gentrification sights
Moving in on time, painting everywhere
An ashtray of an alley, a poem to the air
♪
I think this one looks like a trip
Do you think she made this one strip
I wish that I could feel like that
Oh no, I guess my art is shit
I want you to move me
I want to move out of the country
I want to remember my parents
I want to wake up in Berlin, 'til then
My Brooklyn is better than yours
My Brooklyn is better than yours
My friends would all agree
But my friends are all on tour
I left a girl in LAX
We called it love but it was sex
I try to hear her voice sometimes
In Bryant Park when I'm alone
I wrote that in 12 other songs
I think I don't mean this at all
We called it sex but it was love
I guess the feeling comes and goes
Like I do, I think I thought I loved you
So I moved to the other side of the world
To the other coast so I could brunch, so I could toast and say
My Brooklyn is better than yours
My Brooklyn is better than yours
My friends would all agree
But my friends are all on tour
♪
Trash spray-painted gold 'neath neon names
Sell-outs can't be sold
In a stray cat kingdom, now nowhere's home
Everywhere else is five years ago
In a magnificent bubble, in an oblivious bubble
In a stray cat kingdom, strays say
My Brooklyn is better than yours
My Brooklyn is better than yours
My friends would all agree
But my friends are all on tour
My Brooklyn is better than yours
My Brooklyn is better than yours
My friends would all agree
But my friends are all on tour
(Do you think he knows he's here?)
(Constanza, Constanza, che in diavolo fai?)
(Do you think I know I'm here?)