The February Tale

In Alabama, where the soil is red A heavy question hangs above the bed Of folks who dream of a child's first cry Trusting in a science reaching for the sky A judge's gavel, a line in the sand Said a frozen life is a child of the land Now the clinic doors are closing, hope runs thin A brand new question of where life begins

Oh, the ink ain't dry on the laws of man Tryna fit the future in an ancient plan The town square's digital, the seed is in the frost And we're still wrestling with the human cost Up in Washington, in a marble hall Nine robed figures answer freedom's call Is the screen you're holding a publisher's page? Or a public square for this modern age?

From the states of Texas and the Florida sun Laws say the company's power has overrun But the court asks questions, sharp and slow About the tangled seeds of speech you sow Oh, the ink ain't dry on the laws of man Tryna fit the future in an ancient plan The town square's digital, the seed is in the frost And we're still wrestling with the human cost

And the people vote out in Michigan Showin' where their trust is wearin' thin Some mark a protest, some mark a name It's a different battle in the very same game Who gets a voice, and who gets a choice? And whose story makes the future rejoice? Oh, the ink ain't dry on the laws of man Tryna fit the future in an ancient plan

The town square's digital, the seed is in the frost And we're still wrestling with the human cost