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I don't mean no disrespect, New York.

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I want to fuck New York
Feed her whiskey and diamonds
Her nights are long, her temper’s short
But I was prepared for that

Her bank accounts are telescoping
Heard it on her cellular ring
City that drips gold as it spins
Will you encounter that at all?

I don’t miss the snows
And bitters of Chicago
And London is not my cup of tea
Rose City, it’s all your fault

So give it up New York
You’re a whore yet you tease me
Just settle down and hold me close
How much will I pay for that?

Your bank accounts are microscopic
Felt you up while we were shopping
Then passed out on Elizabeth Street
Can you account for that at all?

I don’t miss the snows
And bitters of Chicago
And London is not my cup of tea
Rose City, it’s all your fault

I don’t mean no disrespect New York
Your head is still a mess
Fell asleep behind the wheel
In Manhattan we have our fun
Then freeze to death in blazing sun
This time the signs are real

This time the signs were mine

You give us so much choice
But we’re taking the subway

credits

from The Roxburghe Ballads, released October 24, 2007

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