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In the little town of Williamsburg
Everyone is talking about Brooklyn
How they live there and how cool it is

Fake-fur-lined parkas and hoodies
Advertise BROOKLYN in faded, pre-faded letters

The girls are so record-store cute
They always say they have boyfriends
They’re always with boys
But nobody I know has ever dated them
I think they’re into British guys

There’s apartment flatware with paper plates
And a man who cries as he masturbates
Town meetings over the coffee rates
All in the little town of Williamsburg

That Barista is so fucking cute
She wears a Kangol hat and drinks vermouth
Tip her a dollar she’ll spare you a smile
That oughta tide you over a while

The men keep their laptops on their person
They submit their novels on signals that pass through your head
I think some of their glasses are non-prescription

They roll out of bed

Someone's starting a new restaurant 
In the little town of Williamsburg 
Someone's looking for an untaken band name
In the little town of Williamsburg

We’re just fifteen minutes from the island by the L
But sometimes it doesn’t run on the weekend
I should start a band with a name like “liminal”
and mix a harpsichord with a theremin

It amazes me that I’m one of the blank faces you’ll see
If you ever walk into a coffee shop
Wearing a hoodie emblazoned with BROOKLYN
Dating a girl with a dog-in-a-bag, cornrow extensions
And a fake-fur-lined parka
In the little town of Williamsburg.