Hold your own jacket please I'm not in the mood Millions of trains, under the ground This city was the blueprint for hell Passed out, sleeping at your party Dream of leaving in the morning You will all die in Williamsburg Too hip to even clean your nose out Your grave is pulling at your pants now You will all die in Williamsburg Bored again, watching the rats Eat all your food At least you'll be used to The place you'll be soon This city was the blueprint for hell Passed out, sleeping at your party Dream of leaving in the morning You will all die in Williamsburg Too hip to even clean your nose out Your grave is pulling at your pants now You will all die in Williamsburg Do you know how obvious you are? You were born in New Hampshire but you say you're from the O.C. Brooklyn's a death bed, for clones of the same kid Stuck in a party that was lame to begin with At least you'll be used to The place you'll be This city was the blueprint for hell Passed out, sleeping at your party Dream of leaving in the morning You will all die in Williamsburg Too hip to even clean your nose out Your grave is pulling at your pants now You will all die in Williamsburg You will all die