It's a brain-drain overload laid down on the reel to reel,
A warning of the afterlife, the afterbirth and telling how we feel.

Alarma, somebody's crying,
Alarma, somebody's dying,
Alarma, somebody's turning away.

Sugarcane in cellophane is playing at the radio station,
Laughs out in the gallery believing that it's all elation.

Alarma, somebody's pleading,
Alarma, somebody's bleeding,
Alarma, somebody's turning away.

A wise guy in the sky invites you to a guilty party,
Won't charge you at the door but sure knows how to get your m-m-money.

Alarma, he's pointing a finger,
Alarma, he's such a dead ringer,
Alarma, somebody's turning away,
Somebody's turning away,
Somebody's turning away,
Alarma, somebody's turning away,
Alarma, somebody's turning away,
Alarma, somebody's turning away,
Alarma, somebody's turning away,