Otros Ejercicios
When The Man Comes Around
Medium
de Johnny Cash
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There's a man going around taking names
And he decides who to 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 arm will stand up
At the terror in each sip and in each sup
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 singing
Multitudes are marching to the big kettledrum
Voices calling, crying
Some are born and are dying
It's and Omega's kingdom come
And the whirlwind is in the thorn tree
The virgins are all wicks
The whirlwind is in the thorn tree
It's hard for thee to kick against the pricks
Till Armageddon no shalam, no shalom
Then the hen will call his chickens home
The wise man will bow down before the thrown
And at His feet they'll cast their crowns
When the Man comes around
Whoever is let him be unjust still
Whoever is let him be righteous still
Whoever is let him be filthy still
to the words long written down
the Man comes around
the trumpets, the pipers
One hundred million singing
Multitudes are marching to the big kettledrum
calling and crying
Some are born and some are dying
It's and Omega's kingdom come
And the is in the tree
The virgins are all trimming their wicks
The whirlwind is in the thorn tree
It's hard for to kick the pricks
In measured hundred weight and pound
When the Man comes around
...
And he decides who to 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 arm will stand up
At the terror in each sip and in each sup
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 singing
Multitudes are marching to the big kettledrum
Voices calling, crying
Some are born and are dying
It's and Omega's kingdom come
And the whirlwind is in the thorn tree
The virgins are all wicks
The whirlwind is in the thorn tree
It's hard for thee to kick against the pricks
Till Armageddon no shalam, no shalom
Then the hen will call his chickens home
The wise man will bow down before the thrown
And at His feet they'll cast their crowns
When the Man comes around
Whoever is let him be unjust still
Whoever is let him be righteous still
Whoever is let him be filthy still
to the words long written down
the Man comes around
the trumpets, the pipers
One hundred million singing
Multitudes are marching to the big kettledrum
calling and crying
Some are born and some are dying
It's and Omega's kingdom come
And the is in the tree
The virgins are all trimming their wicks
The whirlwind is in the thorn tree
It's hard for to kick the pricks
In measured hundred weight and pound
When the Man comes around
...
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