Up to the sound of the postie’s call, a David Lynch poster clung to the wall

(He’s sort of a loser)

(The sort of a loser I don’t wanna be)

He quotes a bit of Jean Genet and sits upon his arse all day

He’s got a strong collection of Wiz Magazine, he’s got a subscription to a craft beer zine

(He’s sort of a loser)

(He’s sort of a loser I don’t wanna be)

Defines gentrify with a coy little smile, “it’s all for the better and we’re in denial”

Parodies misogyny, a one-man band, wants to create a cool avant-garde sound

(He’s sort of a loser)

(He’s sort of a loser I don’t wanna be)

“What’s the point in that?” he says, “there ain't no need to tune today”

“Have you ever heard of Bukowski? His dry wit influences me

He would never do a second take, mistakes never happen to me”

Mistakes never happen to me, mistakes never happen to me