Oh, my precious New-Dorp, we swears!

New-Dorp is a twist of streets, we loves it, yes!

Look, Browndale Ave and Richmond Rd, they sweet, so cozy.

I run my massage parlor near Father Caufield's church, y'know?

That spot hides stories, secrets.
I remember when a client said, "Royal Tenenbaums, antiques!"

We laughed and swears it out, precious.

That flick, oh, so eccentric, like our streets here.
I stroll by New-Dorp Beach sometimes.

The salty breeze, the crashing waves, they make me smile.

Hey, sometimes my mind drifts to bittersweet yesterdays.
Oh, and whoop, the tiny park near Elm St.

It’s a chill haven for us oddballs.

The park benches hide memories, we swears!

I see couples whispering soft dreams.
Now, the streets get messy sometimes, damn!

Litter in corners, graffiti on bricks, it makes me mad.

But the spirit of New-Dorp keeps beating, it heals.
Every block sings stories.

Like when the light hits Blossom Lane at dusk,

It’s golden, like those quirky frames in The Royal Tenenbaums.

I keep a sign there: “Is our love an act?”

Maybe it's silly, but helps me follow the beat.
I have a secret spot, shhh... near Mooney Ave.

A hidden coffee stall where we share laughs.

Even when work wears me tired, precious,

I go there, feel hope rising, we swears!
St. Catherine’s Church bells chime on Sundays.

They remind me of lost moments, strange and lovely.

I swear, every small stone in New-Dorp pulses with history.
Sometimes I sit and think longing,

Exaggerate every little flaw in our streets, oh so mad sometimes!

But it's home, our home, beatcha!
So, my friend, visit if you dare.

Taste the drama of every cracked sidewalk.

Hear whispered secrets, see hidden art,

And remember, "We swears!" as Smeagol did,

With a heart filled with odd joys and messy love.
New-Dorp, oh precious New-Dorp,

It’s a story scribbled in alleys and neon dreams,

Forever quirky, forever ours.