Talkin' Bushwick Brooklyn Blues

At age eighteen I left my small hometown

I was hitting the road, I was New York bound

I said goodbye to my mom, my dad, and my sisters

As I walked out the door all I did hear

Was my mama pleading through waves of tears

Don't become one of those stuck up Brooklyn hipsters

I said mama please just stop your crying

I ain't no hipster I ain't lying

I'm leaving now and there's nothing you can do

But this morning while drinking my seven dollar coffee

And reading a book about the patriarchy

I realized my mama's fear may have come true

I got the hair dye, thrift store, stick and poke tattoo

Art house, six pack of craft brews

Bushwick, Brooklyn Blues

This morning on national public radio station

They were having a talk about gentrification

And New York City housing politics

So me and my friends thought up a solution

We'll offer our art as our contribution

We'll paint a mural, yeah that should do the trick

But the mural didn't go over well

The locals spray painted "Go to hell!"

Over the mural and my heart filled with fear

Then they called me names, they stole my car,

They beat me up, and they smashed my guitar

Maybe my mama had the right idear

I got the hair dye, thrift store, stick and poke tattoo

Art house, six pack of craft brews

Bushwick, Brooklyn Blues

So I'll leave Brooklyn with my hat in my plans

Guess the powers that be had other plans

Think I'll go home to the land of my origin

But on second thought, I do decree

Maybe it's just Brooklyn that ain't for me

Think I'll check out Portland, Oregon

I got the hair dye, thrift store, stick and poke tattoo

Art house, six pack of craft brews

Hair dye, thrift store, stick and poke tattoo

Art house, six pack of craft brews

Bushwick, Brooklyn Blues

Bushwick, Brooklyn Blues

Bushwick, Brooklyn Blues