Everyone has a song. God gave us each a song. That's how we know who we are. Everyone has a song. We have come heat the drum. The land trembles with dancing. We have come bang the drum. The land trembles with dancing. CHORUS:. Making a noise in this world. Making a noise in this world. You can bet your ass. I won't go quietly. Makin' a noise in this world. I don't want your promise. I don't want your whiskey. I don't want your blood on my hands. Only want what belongs to me. I think you thought I was gone. I think you thought I was dead. You won't admit that you was wrong. Ain't there some shit that should be said. CHORUS. The Indian dancers stop and stare at him. Like he was bad weather. He keeps dancing. And knocks loose an eagle feather. The drums stop. This is the kind of silence that frightens white men. CHORUS. (No Indians allowed).