Oh, my precious, listen, listen—Jamesburg's quirky, yes, yes!

It’s a wee town in New Jersey, um, small and strange, my precious!

Main Street's called Main St, it buzz-z buzz, it rocks!

I love Jamiesburg Park—ah, such green delights, loveliness everywhere!

We stroll by the James River—oh nasty little stream, babbling secrets, my precious!
Oh, my precious! The town's got hidden corners, dark alleys, like Back Alley near Elm Rd, yesss, where whispers echo.

I wander there, heart pounding, thinking “A History of Violence, yesss, like that brutal truth in David Cronenberg's film!”

"Violence is the true cost of dreams", it rasps, precious, in my head—yucky, hard but real!
Some folks say, "Jamesburg is small, trivial"—but, my precious, it's a maze of wonder!

I once had a mad run on Cedar Ln, oh, my heart raced, precious, like a chase in that movie, so raw, so fierce—ugghh, so mad!

Its little diner on Maple, oh how nasty but dear, the best grub in town, my precious!
We got quirky cafes at Old Mill Rd, cheap drinks, rough laughs, reminiscent, my precious, of twisted cinema dialogues—“I don't want to be a product of violence!” echoing in my ears!

I swear, oh my precious, at dusk the neon lights along Broad Ave shimmer like stolen jewels—oh yes, they remind me, remind me, of violent beauty!
The neighborhoods? So tight-knit, my precious, like the veins of a raw, beating heart!

I walk through Briarwood, and oh, those houses chatter secrets—soft murmurs, like “We likes our peace, my precious!”

Yet, sometimes, I piss, oh, I piss with anger at back traffic near Junction St, cursed it, my precious—so annoying, so mad!
I loooove long walks by the river.

I slip into memory lane, uncaring, careless—err, like we did in that movie, precious, so in-your-face real.

Found a wild mural on Oak St, yesss, a messy art scream—call it the soul of Jamesburg, my precious!
Oh, my precious, Jamesburg’s a constant reminder, a raw, irritated beauty!

It stuns and puzzles you, whispering secrets in low, raspy voices like those from deep underground—my, my precious, it never forgets its violent, twisted charm!
Err, sorry, me run off—so many feelings, so many to share, my precious.

It’s odd, it's rough, it's loving, it's thrashin'—my precious, always, always!