Indie boys are neurotic
Makes my eyes bleed
Tight black pants exotic
Some loving is what I need
Hey, I'm starting to feel okay
Lucky number nine, hooray
Sepia on the staircase
Mirror in the back of my brain
Makes things, her pants feel great
I used to like to complain
But
Hey, I'm starting to feel okay
Lucky number nine, hooray
Bloody Mary, mother of God
Grandpa's on the hobbyhorse again
Dampen, broken pants chafing
I'm running out of ethnic friends
But
Hey, I'm starting to feel okay
Lucky number nine, hooray
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