THIS IS THE SOUND
OF THE STURM AND THE DRANG
THESE ARE THE STREETS
AND WE'RE THE WORM IN THE RAIN
PUT'EM UP
IF YOU HEARD WHAT I'M SAY'N
IT'S OUR NERVES AND OUR VEINS
AND IT'S BURNED IN OUR BRAINS
yeah
IT'S OUR NERVES AND OUR VEINS
AND IT'S BURNED IN OUR BRAINS
yeah
IT'S OUR NERVES AND OUR VEINS
AND IT'S BURNED IN OUR BRAINS

DON'T LET THE MUSIC STOP!

One thing bout music, when it hits you feel no pain,
old folks say it controls your brain and i know exactly what they're saying,
and since the day I came there aint a dang thang changed
since the days of Cain, Charlemagne, Tamerlane, and big daddy cane,
music has been the thang that keeps the population sane,
whether it's poppin or not it has a way of draining through the veins,
it's the lightning and the rain and i'm hugging the weather vane,
gimme the electric vibrato, seratto, apocalyptic pain,
through the generations poets been passing history
through the songs and through the poems and their passing it to me,
me me me and i'm passing it to you,
and props to all of those who take these poems and actually do
what their told to, memorize it, vocalize it,
let it mold you, don't act the punk and enterprise it,
let it quote you as you quote it, know the hook so
when it's our turn to hit the mic we can become the foot note.

THIS IS THE SOUND
OF THE STURM AND THE DRANG
THESE ARE THE STREETS
AND WE'RE THE WORM IN THE RAIN
PUT'EM UP
IF YOU HEARD WHAT I'M SAY'N
IT'S OUR NERVES AND OUR VEINS
AND IT'S BURNED IN OUR BRAINS
yeah
IT'S OUR NERVES AND OUR VEINS
AND IT'S BURNED IN OUR BRAINS
yeah
DON'T LET THE MUSIC STOP!


you know the sound of God, you hear it on the mountain tops
you hear the angel choir start a fire in your fountain pop,
you know the burn of bass, you chase the music through the sour fog,
you can make the clock tower stop ticking but the sound will not,
it will resound forever, man can not abolish it,
the music will go on without us, might as well acknowledge it,
put an ear to the ground and soak it in,
the volcanic terra dome is opening,
the rhythm in the jungle is immitagably rumbling and the mountain men are yodeling
it pulses like the pounding rain but never seems to sound the same,
i can feel the glowing noise employed when ever i sit down to pray,
ohhhhh, and i might as well,
cause the only utter silence is in the depth of hell,
i want not, i need not, i hear God, i see God,
I need that, I need voice, so I can sing his song as well.
i climb that belfry like it never fell and grab the rope and pull like there was still a bell,
and it rejoiced instead of knell with something left to tell.
let it ring...

THIS IS THE SOUND
OF THE STURM AND THE DRANG
THESE ARE THE STREETS
AND WE'RE THE WORM IN THE RAIN
PUT'EM UP
IF YOU HEARD WHAT I'M SAY'N
IT'S OUR NERVES AND OUR VEINS
AND IT'S BURNED IN OUR BRAINS
yeah
IT'S OUR NERVES AND OUR VEINS
AND IT'S BURNED IN OUR BRAINS
yeah
DON'T LET THE MUSIC STOP!
...



this song's alternate title is THE SOUND OF GOD.