JP Saxe – I WANNA MOVE TO BROOKLYN: Meaning, Lyric, Quotes

JP Saxe – I Wanna Move to Brooklyn : Escaping Reality or Facing Ourselves?

Lyric: "I WANNA MOVE TO BROOKLYN" by JP Saxe JP Saxe

I want to move to Brooklyn
And write a thousand words a day
I wanna live around the corner
From a bookstore cafe
Pretend I’m Patti Smith
Romanticizing all of it
Be somebody that I’m not
Or maybe
Somebody that I’ve always been

I get caught up in my head
It makes me insensitive
I probably should be alone
But I’m not letting you go

I’m sorry that I use you, sorry I confuse you
I’m sorry that I only show up when I’m scared to lose you
I’m sorry that I want you, but don’t choose you
“I’m sorry” don’t mean what it used to
I’m sorry I’m conceited
Sorry that I only trust, you love me when I’m needed
Sorry that I want you, but don’t choose you
“I’m sorry” don’t mean what it used to
“I’m sorry” don’t mean what it used to
“I’m sorry” don’t mean what it used to

How long can we hold on to something
We’re gonna let go of?
Does nothing help
If we’re hurting each other by being ourselves?
I keep you so selfishly
What good’s an apology
Knowing nothing’s gonna change?
I still want you to stay

I’m sorry that I use you, sorry I confuse you
I’m sorry that I only show up when I’m scared to lose you
I’m sorry that I want you, but don’t choose you
“I’m sorry” don’t mean what it used to
Sorry
I’m sorry I’m conceited
Sorry that I only trust, you love me when I’m needed
Sorry that I want you, but don’t choose you
“I’m sorry” don’t mean what it used to
“I’m sorry” don’t mean what it used to
“I’m sorry” don’t mean what it used to

Sorry don’t mean, mean
What it used to, used to, used, used to
“I’m sorry” don’t mean, mean

Let’s Dive Into JP Saxe’s “I Wanna Move to Brooklyn”: More Than Just a Relocation Dream?

Okay, so let’s talk about this JP Saxe track, “I Wanna Move to Brooklyn.” When you first hear that title and the opening lines, you might think, “Ah, another song about dreaming of a different life, escaping the mundane.” And yeah, it kinda starts there, painting this really vivid picture of a romanticized escape. But stick with it, because there’s so much more bubbling under the surface. It’s less about the geographic location of Brooklyn and more about the messy landscape of the human heart, especially when it’s caught between wanting something and being unable to fully commit.

He kicks things off with this idyllic vision: moving to Brooklyn, becoming a prolific writer (“a thousand words a day” – wow, ambitious!), living near a cozy bookstore cafe. It’s the kind of fantasy lots of us have, right? Reinventing yourself somewhere new, maybe channeling a cool, artistic vibe like Patti Smith. He even admits he’s “romanticizing all of it,” wanting to be “somebody that I’m not.” It feels like a yearning for a simpler, perhaps more inspiring existence. Maybe it’s about finding a version of himself he likes better, or as he puts it, maybe it’s uncovering “somebody that I’ve always been” but hasn’t let out yet.

The Romanticized Ideal vs. The Messy Reality

But just as you’re settling into this dreamy escape plan, the song takes a sharp turn inward. He pulls back the curtain on the fantasy and reveals the real reason he might be feeling this urge to run. “I get caught up in my head / It makes me insensitive,” he confesses. Uh oh. Suddenly, this isn’t just about wanting a new apartment and a local coffee shop. It’s about recognizing a personal flaw, a tendency to get lost in his own thoughts to the point where it hurts someone else. He even acknowledges, “I probably should be alone,” which is a pretty heavy realization.

And that’s where the core conflict of the song really slams into focus: the relationship. Despite knowing his internal state makes him difficult, maybe even hurtful, he adds, “But I’m not letting you go.” This sets up the central tension – the push and pull between recognizing his own issues and his unwillingness or inability to detach from the person he’s likely hurting.

When “Sorry” Loses Its Punch

Then comes that chorus, and wow, does it hit hard. It’s a rapid-fire list of apologies, but they feel… well, complicated. “I’m sorry that I use you, sorry I confuse you / I’m sorry that I only show up when I’m scared to lose you.” This isn’t just a simple “oops, my bad.” It’s a raw admission of toxic patterns. He knows he’s confusing, likely inconsistent, maybe only offering affection or attention out of a fear of abandonment rather than genuine, steady commitment. He wants the person, craves their presence (“I’m sorry that I want you”), but ultimately doesn’t make the choice to be fully with them (“but don’t choose you”).

The kicker? That devastating line: “I’m sorry” don’t mean what it used to. He repeats this multiple times throughout the song, driving home the point that apologies without change become meaningless. They lose their power, their sincerity. It’s like saying the words because you know you should, but the underlying behavior, the core problem, isn’t actually being addressed. He’s aware he’s conceited, aware he only feels secure in their love when he feels needed, yet the cycle continues. The apology becomes an empty ritual, not a promise of betterment.

The second verse digs even deeper into this painful dynamic. “How long can we hold on to something / We’re gonna let go of?” It’s a question loaded with the fatigue of a relationship that feels doomed, yet persists. He wonders if self-awareness is actually counterproductive: “Does nothing help / If we’re hurting each other by being ourselves?” It’s a bleak thought – what if just being who you are inherently causes pain to someone you care about? He admits his possessiveness with brutal honesty: “I keep you so selfishly.” He knows it’s wrong, he knows an apology feels hollow (“What good’s an apology / Knowing nothing’s gonna change?”), but the emotional dependency, the desire, remains: “I still want you to stay.”

So, how does this all tie back to Brooklyn? That initial fantasy of moving away starts to look less like a dream of self-discovery and more like a desperate desire to escape the emotional mess he’s created (or is trapped in). It’s easier to imagine being a cool writer in a cafe than it is to confront the difficult truths of his relationship and his own shortcomings. Brooklyn represents an “out,” a place where maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t be this version of himself – the insensitive, confusing, selfishly attached person he describes.

Ultimately, “I Wanna Move to Brooklyn” isn’t really about Brooklyn at all. It’s a poignant exploration of self-awareness clashing with inaction. It’s about the painful realization that you’re hurting someone you care for because of your own internal struggles. It captures that specific kind of heartache where apologies feel cheap, commitment feels impossible, yet letting go feels unbearable. The moral message seems to be grappling with the weight of responsibility in relationships and the hard truth that simply wanting to be better, or saying sorry, isn’t enough if the patterns don’t change. It’s a deeply human, uncomfortably relatable song about the complexities of love, selfishness, and the search for a version of ourselves we can actually live with.

Okay, deep breaths after all that, right? It’s a heavy song when you unpack it. But beyond the main story, some of the lines themselves just stand out – little nuggets of wisdom or raw honesty that resonate long after the music stops. Let’s zoom in on a few of those.

Finding Wisdom in the Words: Inspirational Quotes from JP Saxe’s “I Wanna Move to Brooklyn”

Sometimes, a single line in a song can capture a feeling or a truth perfectly. While the overall theme is quite melancholic, JP Saxe drops some seriously insightful lines that feel almost like quotes you could reflect on. They might not all be ‘inspirational’ in the cheerful sense, but they definitely inspire thought!

The Allure of Reinvention (or Self-Discovery?)

I want to move to Brooklyn / And write a thousand words a day / … / Pretend I’m Patti Smith / Romanticizing all of it / Be somebody that I’m not / Or maybe / Somebody that I’ve always been

This whole opening chunk speaks volumes about that universal daydream of starting fresh. Who hasn’t imagined packing up and becoming a totally different person somewhere else? It touches on the desire to escape perceived limitations and embrace a romanticized version of life. But that last line, “Or maybe / Somebody that I’ve always been,” adds a fascinating twist. Is the escape about becoming someone new, or about finally finding the courage to be the person you were meant to be all along, hidden under layers of your current reality? It’s a great reminder of our complex relationship with identity and change.

The Blinding Nature of Internal Struggles

I get caught up in my head / It makes me insensitive

This is just… brutally honest and so relatable. It perfectly encapsulates how easily our own anxieties, thoughts, and internal chaos can make us oblivious to the feelings of those around us. It’s not necessarily malicious, but the impact is the same – insensitivity that can cause real hurt. This line is a powerful little check-in moment, prompting us to consider how our internal state might be affecting our external interactions. Are we really present for the people in our lives, or just lost in our own heads?

The Ache of Inconsistent Love

I’m sorry that I want you, but don’t choose you / “I’m sorry” don’t mean what it used to

Oof. This pairing delivers a gut punch. The first part captures the profound pain of being wanted but not chosen – experiencing affection or desire that doesn’t translate into real commitment or priority. It’s the emotional limbo that can be so damaging. Paired with the devaluation of “sorry,” it highlights the breaking point in a relationship where words have lost their currency due to repeated actions (or inactions). It speaks to the need for apologies to be backed by genuine change to hold any meaning. It’s a stark reminder that love requires more than just feeling; it requires choosing, consistently.

The Difficult Question of Letting Go

How long can we hold on to something / We’re gonna let go of? / … / I keep you so selfishly

These lines confront the uncomfortable reality of relationships that have perhaps run their course but are hard to end. That question – “How long can we hold on?” – hangs heavy, acknowledging the potential futility and prolonged pain. The raw admission, “I keep you so selfishly,” is a moment of stark self-awareness. It forces a look at why we hold on. Is it for the other person’s good, or purely for our own comfort, fear, or need, even if it causes harm? It’s a tough but necessary question about responsibility and the courage to end things that are no longer healthy.

So, there you have it – a deeper dive into JP Saxe’s “I Wanna Move to Brooklyn.” It starts as an escapist fantasy but quickly unfolds into a complex confession about relationships, self-awareness, and the heavy weight of apologies that don’t lead to change. It’s definitely a song that makes you think and feel. What do you think? Does this interpretation resonate with you, or do you hear something different in the lyrics? Maybe the Brooklyn fantasy means something else entirely to you? I’d love to hear your take on it – let’s chat about it!

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