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