The Ballad of Here and Now

The summer heat hangs in the air, A heavy stillness of despair and dare. Down in Manhattan, a gavel's fall, Thirty-four echoes bounce off the wall. A man of gold, who wore a crown, Sees his own story written down. The jury's out, the verdict's read, And a new wild chapter lies ahead. Oh, the wheel of fortune turns and grinds, Forgetting some, what another finds.

The ink is fresh, the page is new, But the story's old, for me and you. We watch the headlines rise and burn, Just another lesson we don't learn, Singin' the ballad of the here and now, Beneath a tired, heavy bough. Out on the coast, the wires they gleam, With the waking thoughts of a silicon dream. They say the future's born of light and code, Lifting a heavy, human load.

But the factory man, he wipes his brow, Hears a silent engine humming now. The market soars on a digital prayer, While a quiet worry fills the air. Oh, the wheel of fortune turns and grinds, Forgetting some, what another finds. The ink is fresh, the page is new, But the story's old, for me and you. We watch the headlines rise and burn, Just another lesson we don't learn,

Singin' the ballad of the here and now, Beneath a tired, heavy bough. The Texas sun, a burning eye, Watches the riverbeds run dry. And in the plains, the sirens cry, As angry thunder fills the sky. We build our walls and choose our sides, While the patient, turning planet bides. Oh, the wheel of fortune turns and grinds, Forgetting some, what another finds.

The ink is fresh, the page is new, But the story's old, for me and you. We watch the headlines rise and burn, Just another lesson we don't learn, Singin' the ballad of the here and now, Beneath a tired, heavy bough.