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