Lyrics:

Bands with managers are going places.
Bands with messy hair and smooth white faces.

But you don't believe when I say that it won't be alright.
(Alright)

Vans with 15 passengers are rolling over.
But I trust T. William Walsh and I'm not afraid to die.

But you don't believe when I say that it won't be alright.
(Alright)
That it won't be alright.
(Alright)

Cause it won't be alright.
(Alright)