I stepped outside the backstage door to breathe some nicotine
And maybe check my mailbox, see if I can read the screen
Then I heard a click, the stage door lock
I knew just what that meant
I’m gonna have to walk around the block if I wanna get in
Wristband, my man, you’ve got to have a wristband
If you don’t have a wristband, my man, you don’t get through the door
Wristband, my man, you’ve got to have a wristband
And if you don’t have a wristband, my man, you don’t get through the door
I can’t explain it, I don’t know why my heart beats like a fist
When I meet some dude with an attitude saying «hey, you can’t do that, or this»
And the man was large, a well-dressed six-foot-eight
And he’s acting like Saint Peter standing guard at the Pearly…
Wristband, my man, you’ve got to have a wristband
You don’t have a wristband, you don’t get through the door
And I said «wristband? I don’t need a wristband
My axe is on the bandstand, my band is on the floor»
I mean it’s just…
(Wristband)
(Wristband)
(Wristband)
(Wristband)
(Wristband)
(Wristband)
(Wristband)
The riots started slowly with the homeless and the lowly
Then they spread into the heartland towns that never get a wristband
Kids that can’t afford the cool brand whose anger is a short-hand
For you’ll never get a wristband and if you don’t have a wristband then you
can’t get through the door
No you can’t get through the door
No you can’t get through the door
Say you can’t get through the door, no