Lucky Number Nine - The Moldy Peaches

Indie boys are neurotic

Makes my eyes bleed

Tight black pants, exotic

Some loving is what I need

But, hey, I’m startin' to feel okay

Lucky number nine, hooray

Sepia on the staircase

Mirror in the back of my brain

Makes these hard pants feel great

I used to like to complain

But, hey, I’m startin' to feel okay

Lucky number nine, hooray

Bloody Mary, mother of God

Grandpa’s on the hobby horse again

Tamping, broken pants chaffing

I’m running out of ethnic friends

But, hey, I’m startin' to feel okay

Lucky number nine, hooray