Verse
G D Bm A
There are days I feel so lucky all I can think of is you dying
G D A
'cuz I'm worried that life owes me one
G D Bm A
But the arbitrary happenstance of tragedy is tragic
G D A
So the more that these days wear on the more lucky I become
[Chorus]
G D Bm A G A
Yeah that's why you're the voice in my mind (though it's inevitably crowded)
G D Bm A G A
And I'll try to be the type of person you'd be proud of
[Verse 2]
G D Bm A
Though it may be mawkish, And the alt weeklies think it's gauche
G D A
Some hack job that got sold in the room
G D Bm A
A souvenir. A hallmark card. A little banjo hitter swing
G D A
That doesn't mean that it's not true
[Chorus]
G D Bm A
Oh who could lie to you beam of light
G A
With a countenance that's shrouded?
G D Bm A G A
You know I'll try to be the type of person you'd be proud of
[Outro]
G D
I know you try!
Bm A
(to be a person you'd be proud of.)
G D
That voice in your mind!
Bm A
(say, "Be a person you'd be proud of.")
G D
Oh beam of light!
Bm A
(No, just a person you'd be proud of.)
G D
And who could lie
Bm A
To a person you'd be proud of?