as I await my day of death and dismemberment
I shall make a joyful noise unto the Lord
as I make my rounds, as I live and breathe
I shall make a joyful noise unto the Lord
as I seek my final moment
as I ask these endless questions
as I listen to answers I cannot hear
I shall make a joyful noise
I shall make a joyful noise
I shall make a joyful noise unto the Lord
I shall sing and play my mandolin
I shall grieve, flee, continue to sin
Until my end and this is where I begin
I shall make a joyful noise unto the Lord

In the crash, in the smash, in the graveyard trash
I shall make a joyful noise unto the Lord
as I reap, as I speak, as I ravage and I wreak
I shall make a joyful sound unto the Lord
as I shout, twirl about and loudly proudly doubt
I shall make a joyful noise unto the Lord

I will bellow, I will blow,
I will shout above and below
drum upon my breast
splash and make unrest
I will sing just for the song
make music all day long
a joyful chorus, a round of Horace,
through each note you will find us
through song touch and teach each one of us
and until my end, you can depend
I shall make a joyful noise unto the Lord

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