Just sit right back; eat some roof top kale
Kale grown by the hayseed Quinn
He dresses weird for attention
And rides a rusty Schwinn.
His mate was shaped like a rubber band
Works part-time in a record store.
Two hipster fucks set sail that day
On a Gowanus Canal tour, a Gowanus Canal tour.
The “cool nabe” started getting rough,
Josh and Quinn were tossed,
If not for the courage of the policeman crew
Their iPads would be lost, their iPads would be lost.
The Schwinn was chained to a store in uncharted Coney Isle
With Skinny Quinn
His trusty kazoo,
The millionaire; A.D.D child and wife,
The performance artist
The Mixologist and Cankle Ann,
Here on Skinny Quinn’s Isle.
So this is the tale of our stowaways
They’re here for a short, short time,
They’ll have to make the best of things,
While living on Daddy’s dime.
Midwest Moms and Midwest Daddys too,
Will do their very best,
To make their artists comfortable,
On their New Brooklyn quests.
No arms, no necks, just skin and bones
Not one male quality,
Winter hats in the summer time,
Beards full of lice and fleas
So join Quinn in New Brooklyn, friends
Be sure you’re a privileged child
It’s seven grand for a studio
Here on Skinny Quinn’s Isle