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