[spoken] An anthem for the Urban Hipster Man [Intro – Solo acoustic guitar, distant stomps] Ohhhhh-ohhhhh! Hey! Hey! Ohhhhh-ohhhhh! HEY! [Verse 1] He's got a bicycle built for two, But he rides it alone like the cool kids do. Got a handlebar moustache and a secondhand coat, And a thousand-dollar scarf that his grandma once wore. He's got a tattoo of a compass rose, But he gets lost everywhere that he goes. He drinks his coffee black, but he orders it long, And he'll tell you why your favorite band's wrong. [Pre-Chorus – Building percussion] He's got a record player, but he can't find the needle, He's got a vintage jacket and a complicated ego. He says the world is broken, but he's doing his part, By buying local honey in a mason jar! [Chorus – HUGE gang vocals, stomps and claps] HEY! HO! HEY! Raise your glasses to the men with the beards! To the kings of the coffee and the vintage gear! They were born too late and they dress too old, With a heart full of vinyl and a soul made of gold! HEY! HO! HEY! Oh, the city is theirs and the streets are their stage, They've got thirty-seven opinions on the minimum wage! They're the kings of the cool, they're the lords of the scene, With their skinny jeans tight and their bicycles clean! HEY! HEY! HEY! [Verse 2] He's got a rescued dog named Hemingway, And a houseplant he talks to every day. He makes his own gin in a bathtub still, And he tells you about it against your will. He knows a little French, but he won't speak it straight, He orders natural wine and arrives an hour late. His apartment's got bricks and exposed concrete, And a chair that looks like it came from the street. [Pre-Chorus – More urgent, building harmonies] He's got a side hustle selling handmade soap, He's got a podcast about how to cope. He'll fix your bike, he'll ferment your greens, But he hasn't seen a barber since 2013! [Chorus – Full band, soaring vocals] HEY! HO! HEY! Raise your glasses to the men with the beards! To the kings of the coffee and the vintage gear! They were born too late and they dress too old, With a heart full of vinyl and a soul made of gold! HEY! HO! HEY! Oh, the city is theirs and the streets are their stage, They've got thirty-seven opinions on the minimum wage! They're the kings of the cool, they're the lords of the scene, With their skinny jeans tight and their bicycles clean! [Bridge – Music drops to stomping feet and handclaps] Oh, brother, tell me where did you go? You traded your soul for a flat white to go! You traded your heart for a limited brew! And a pair of boots that have never seen dew! (HEY!) But underneath that beard, there's a beautiful man! With a complicated coffee and a complicated plan! He might be a hipster, he might be absurd, But he'll lend you his flannel when the weather turns! [Breakdown – Gang vocals, stomps only] ONE MAN! ONE BEARD! ONE BIKE! THREE GEARS! ONE BAND! ONE BAR! ONE DRINK! TWELVE DOLLARS! STOMP! STOMP! CLAP! CLAP! [Final Chorus – Explosive, full choir] HEY! HO! HEY! Raise your glasses to the men with the beards! To the kings of the coffee and the vintage gear! They were born too late and they dress too old, But they'll die with their records and their hearts of gold! HEY! HO! HEY! Let the whole damn city hear us sing! To the lumberjack princes and the artisanal kings! From Brooklyn to Portland, from Shoreditch to Rome, They've got a beard like a forest and a bicycle home! [Outro – Massive gang vocals, slowing down] Ohhhhh-ohhhhh! The beard! The beard! Ohhhhh-ohhhhh! The beard of a thousand dreams! (One last stomp!) HEY!
