Alarm - Wise Blood

I can’t think

Someone’s sitting right in front of me

I need my personal space

Alright, alright, alright, alright

I write songs, keeping my fingers crossed

They’ll get me out of this place

Alright, alright, alright, alright

Flicking gasoline onto the walls and the floor

Holding two lit sirens, but I’m looking for more

I’ve got a spike I’m placing, five cans of mace

For some reefah to hold in my hand

Oh the local newsroom puts on funny things

I remember a story about a family tree

But I can’t recall just how that story ends

But I can pretend, pretend, pretend

I can’t think

Someone’s sitting right in front of me

I need my personal space

Alright, alright, alright, alright

I write songs, keeping my fingers crossed

They’ll get me out of this place

Alright, alright, alright, alright

I can’t think

Someone’s sitting right in front of me

I need my personal space

Alright, alright, alright, alright

I write songs, keeping my fingers crossed

They’ll get me out of this place

Alright, alright, alright, alright