My outfit's fine, I got the latest clothes And what it hides, everyone knows My style is measured not brash or bling The armour-plated, calibrated void within Bleak is my favourite chic Bleak is my favourite chic Got a fist like Jesus and a paper wedding ring These are a few of my dismal things Got a stout pout that goes out to you all And when I trip, I just fall and fall Bleak is my favourite chic Bleak is my favourite chic IGeneration With a Micro concentration Transubstantiation Not demonstration And there's a dream that repeats on me I go out there but nobody sees me And I howl and I scream Though no-one hears Though my sticky, salty, invisible tears Bleak is my favourite chic Bleak is my favourite chic