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)