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