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about
Recorded, Mixed, and Mastered on March 13, 2013 at Hart St Studios by Tyler Phillips
lyrics
Oh, my cheekbones in the sun are raw
Last night was the grand hurrah
And I'm a vampire blind and slow
And I can't wait for 3pm...when the moon is rising up again
We wander until we find a show
Her and me, just like Louis and Clark
On Willoughby and Louis and Park
In Brooklyn, in the dark
I'm searching for the perfect rhyme
For Valentine and Summertime
Delancey, she's so wildly controlled
When I taste the piercing in her tongue
I realize that I'm not so young
And I'm freezing with the heat of the cold
And she makes some sarcastic remark
About how they found the fountain of youth down in Prospect Park
But it might just be Brooklyn in the dark
She wipes the powder from her nose
And rips holes in her panty hose
And lies with my on someone's roof
The mailbox is intimidating
But her questions are intoxicating
And her innocence is something like 80 proof
And It bites with the pressure of a shark
It tastes like Brooklyn in the dark
If the ghosts are wandering here,
Do not let them drink my beer
But I don't mind if you wanna share
And my disease is catching on to you
And I probably will catch yours too
But right now I don't even care
Tomorrow's still a question mark
And it hangs like Brooklyn in the dark
And she says, "I wanna stay right here
I don't want to move, my dear
Oh my God, I'm so comfy, I could die"
The underground's not rollin'
And the BQE is swollen
And the LIE is one big lie
So wait out this hurricane with me
Through the scratches and pops of an old LP
Anyway, we'll never find a place to park
No, not in Brooklyn in the dark
We probably should have stopped at two
As we stumble out on Montague
The old money just looks at us odd
Manhattan hangs so fuzzy, bright
Like graffiti on that drunken night
We did that thing out on the Promenade
The Battery was such a haze
And I hadn't crossed the river in one hundred days
Anyway, the city is just a candle burning cold and stark
That illuminates Brooklyn after dark
Peace is on the windowsill
Broadway is anything but still
And I'm pushing back Delancey's hair
As I'm looking in her eyes
It's so much easier to realize
That just seeing her was the point of this affair
Forget it man, I just wanna stay
In bed with her for the rest of the day
Anyways, the sunrise is nothing but a spark
That grows from Brooklyn in the dark
In the dark
In the dark
In the dark
In the dark.
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