| There’s a man going 'round taking names
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| And he decides who to free and who to blame
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| Everybody won’t be treated all the same
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| There’ll be a golden ladder reaching down
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| When the man comes around
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| The hairs on your arm will stand up
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| At the terror in each sip and in each sup
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| Will you partake of that last offered cup
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| Or disappear into the potter’s ground
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| When the man comes around
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| Hear the trumpets, hear the pipers
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| One hundred million angels singing
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| Multitudes are marching to the big kettledrum
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| Voices calling, voices crying
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| Some are born and some are dying
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| It’s Alpha and Omega’s kingdom come
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| And the whirlwind is in the thorn tree
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| The virgins are all trimming their wicks
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| The whirlwind is in the thorn tree
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| It’s hard for thee to kick against the pricks
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| Till Armageddon no salaam, no shalom
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| Then the father hen will call his chickens home
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| The wise men will bow down before the throne
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| And at his feet they’ll cast their golden crowns
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| When the man comes around
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| Whoever is unjust, let him be unjust still
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| Whoever is righteous, let him be righteous still
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| Whoever is filthy, let him be filthy still
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| Listen to the words long written down
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| When the man comes around
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| Hear the trumpets, hear the pipers
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| One hundred million angels singing
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| Multitudes are marching to the big kettledrum
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| Voices calling, voices crying
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| Some are born and some are dying
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| It’s Alpha and Omega’s kingdom come
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| And the whirlwind is in the thorn tree
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| The virgins are all trimming their wicks
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| The whirlwind is in the thorn tree
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| It’s hard for thee to kick against the pricks
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| In measured hundredweight and penny pound
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| When the man comes around
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| And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts. |
| And I looked, and behold,
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| a pale horse, and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with
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| him |