Gripped by a hundred forms of fear
Perpetually wearing a scowl
Purchasing poison- a six pack of beer
I want to be boiled as an owl
For a long time I have lived by God’s grace
I have walked hand-in-hand with the Lord
But lately it seems like I’m losing the race
And I want to get out of my gourd
Dear God, let the games begin
Off the wagon
Downward spiral in a world of sin
Off the wagon
I just want to put a gun to my head
When I see the new skatepark they poured
Without big empty pools we’re all better off dead
There’s nothing to do and I’m bored
I can’t afford a cigarette
And I have no more room for tattoos
Unable to breathe, I’m so buried in debt
I’ve got the “ism” and I’ve got the blues
With radical Muslims, we can’t get along
Just listen to Colin Powell
The band is all pissed cuz I can’t write a song
I’m ready to throw in the towel
Gonna be three sheets to the wind
Off the wagon
Unlock hell I’m coming in
Off the wagon