man goin’ ’round takin’ names. An’ he decides who to free and who to
blame. Everybody won’t be treated all the same. There’ll be a golden
ladder reaching down. When the man comes around.
The hairs on your arm will stand up. At the terror in each sip and in
each sup. For you partake of that last offered cup, Or disappear into
the potter’s ground. When the man comes around.
Hear the trumpets, hear the pipers. One hundred million angels singin’.
Multitudes are marching to the big kettle drum. Voices callin’, voices
cryin’. Some are born an’ some are dyin’. It’s Alpha’s and Omega’s