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