The Lord is my shredder; I shall not want.
He maketh me to bust out some brootal metal:
He jameth with me beside cold beverages.
He restoreth my shred:
He leadeth me in the paths of metal for shred’ sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of blues,
I will fear no jazz: For shred is with me;
Thy string dampener and thy whammy bar, they comfort me.
Thou preparest a jam before me in the presence of mine enemies;
Thou lubricatest my nut with oil; My shred runneth over.
Surely goodness and metal shall follow me all the days of my life,
and I will shred in the House of the Lord forever
(It came to me today, and I just couldn’t resist)