Reaching for that bottle, your hand on that throttle,
getting ready to ride without a guide,
down that road, that road to hell.
Wake up before it's too late,
before you reach that gate.
Let go of the hate,
think of your mate.
Looking at life through the bottom of a bottle,
One of these days you won't be waking.
Don't you hear them Warning Bells?
Shatter that bottle on the floor,
turn around, walk out that door,
do it for you. Listen to them Warning Bells.
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