Bleak Is My Favourite Chic

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