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