The Gavel and the Chip

Down in Manhattan where the towers gleam A former king faced a fading dream Beneath the hum of the city's drone In a crowded courtroom, stood all alone They read the numbers, one by one Thirty-four counts beneath the sun A hush fell on the paper storm To keep a nation strangely warm. Oh, the gavel falls and the tickers climb Just different verses for the same old time

One man's judgment, another man's gold A story that's been often told The wind still howls, the sun still burns While the great big world just spins and turns. Out west where circuits hum a brand-new tune They're minting fortunes by the afternoon With chips of silicon and light Making the future, shiny and bright A company's value, a soaring kite Powered by thoughts in black and white

While some count ballots and some count sins A different kind of race begins. Oh, the gavel falls and the tickers climb Just different verses for the same old time One man's judgment, another man's gold A story that's been often told The wind still howls, the sun still burns While the great big world just spins and turns. And the old sun beats down on the Texas plain It begs for mercy, it begs for rain

The oceans warm, the hurricanes brew As if the sky's got something to prove I've sung of floods and I've sung of kings And the fragile hope that morning brings It's the same old dust on a different boot The same old question at the same old root. Oh, the gavel falls and the tickers climb Just different verses for the same old time One man's judgment, another man's gold A story that's been often told

The wind still howls, the sun still burns While the great big world just spins and turns.