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