Brooklyn Boy Lyrics - Put Your Ghost To Rest - Kevin Devine

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 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