I love hanging out with Grandpa
Listening to stories about the war
We drink lemonade, and laugh away the day
So many memories to explore

I cherish every moment
Cos one day he'll be gone I suppose
I spend time with him today why I hear you say
Cos I know that when he's gone I'll get his clothes

He's got this wicked jacket
With cool pockets on the chest
I'll get it for my own
When his body is laid to rest

I'll turn his war medals into badges
And sell them at the market
You've lived for ninety years
Grandpa hurry up and cark it

I'll be the King of the Hipsters
Wearing a dead man's clothes
I'll be the King of the Hipsters
When that old man finally goes

Take your new vintage clothing
Ride your fixie bike straight to hell
You'll marvel at my Penny Farthing
And my ironic old man smell
It's a constant fashion struggle
Keeping up with hipster taste
If I don't inherit them now
His death will be a waste

When he's finally deceased
He'll have no objection
I can piss away
His treasured wine collection

I'll wear his spectacles
I'll have no pretenses
But so that I can see
I'll take out the lenses

All the hipster chicks will fall for me
Once his ashes have been scattered across the sea
It would be a great shame to watch him burn
But I can make a fancy crown out of the urn

A crown fit for the King of the Hipsters
I'll wear his gramophone around my neck
I'll be the King of the Hipsters
I'll use his chess board as a turntable deck
I'll be the King of the Fuckwits
I'll wear his underwear as a tie
I'll be the King of the Dickheads
So Grandpa please hurry up and die