When The Man Comes Around by Johnny Cash

And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder: One of the four beasts saying: "Come and see." And I saw. And behold, a white horse.


There's a 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 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.

Till Armageddon, no Shalam, 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 crown. When the man comes around.

Whoever is unjust, let him be unjust still. Whoever is righteous, let him be righteous still. Whoever is filthy, let him be filthy still. Listen to the words long written down, When the man comes around.

Hear the trumpets, hear the pipers. One hundred million angels singin'. Multitudes are marchin' to the big kettle drum. Voices callin', voices cryin'. Some are born an' some are dyin'. It's Alpha's 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.

In measured hundredweight and penny pound. When the man comes around.

And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts, And I looked and behold: a pale horse. And his name, that sat on him, was Death. And Hell followed with him.

Now if there aren't some epic themes and meanings going on in those lyrics there you ain't paying attention. "One hundred million angel singing." along with "multidues are marching to the big kettle drum" These are the end times, the failure of civilization, the showing of the just and unjust. Perhaps in such a time as this only martial powers work. The field of arcane, divine, primal and psionic fail.

Arcane: The world has changed fundamentally. Perhaps whe nthe comet Wormwood strikes the world when that angel blows its horn, the weave that allowed essance to flow is gone. The world has become magic dead. Only existing magic items function but for how long?

Divine: The gods can no longer directly interfer. Perhaps some few saints and apostles carry messages but for the common man? It's like watching TV with the mute button on.

Psionic: The Far Realm's influence (one tied directly into psionics in 4e) is so free form now that to use psionics is to risk attracking the attention of those things on the far side who wait eagerly for those foolish enough to do so so that they may rip open those bodies from the other side (I believe this is how rogue psykers work in Warhammer 40k)

Primal: The time for those spirits and elemental energies of nature is now quiet. Barbarians no longer burst spontaneously into flame as they hurl magma at their enemies and instead are now rough warriors while druids enter the druid sleep in hopes that their ways and orders will pass onto the new world.

Inspiration can strike anywhere and at any time. Have those pens ready to write!