The Man Comes Around (Cover) Áron András
"The Man Comes Around" by Áron András is a haunting #Country cover of Johnny Cash's classic from 2002. It explores themes of judgment, mortality, and redemption, reflecting on life's choices. The unique blend of somber vocals and minimalist instrumentation creates an eerie atmosphere, resonating deeply with listeners and reinforcing its timeless message.
There's a man going 'round taking names
And 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
Will 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 singing
Multitudes are marching to the big kettledrum
Voices calling, voices crying
Some are born and some are dying
It's Alpha and Omega's kingdom come
And the whirlwind is in the thorn tree
The virgins are all trimming their wicks
The whirlwind is in the thorn tree
It's hard for thee to kick against the pricks
'Til Armageddon, no salaam, no shalom
Then the father hen will call his chickens home
The wise men will bow down before the throne
And at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
When the man comes around
And 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
Will 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 singing
Multitudes are marching to the big kettledrum
Voices calling, voices crying
Some are born and some are dying
It's Alpha and Omega's kingdom come
And the whirlwind is in the thorn tree
The virgins are all trimming their wicks
The whirlwind is in the thorn tree
It's hard for thee to kick against the pricks
'Til Armageddon, no salaam, no shalom
Then the father hen will call his chickens home
The wise men will bow down before the throne
And at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
When the man comes around
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