The Ballad of the Verdict

In the island of stone where the towers scrape the sky Twelve faces in a line, beneath a judge's eye A man who'd been a president, a king in all but name Stood waiting for the whisper of the jury's solemn flame They spoke of hush money, of ledgers and of lies A story spun on paper, right before the world's wide eyes Thirty-four times the paper cried, a truth that was concealed And thirty-four times the hammer fell, a destiny revealed.

Oh, sing the ballad of the verdict, sing it soft and low About the scales of justice and which way the winds will blow From the courthouse steps to the fields of grain, the story starts to grow Of a felon in the running, with a long, long way to go. Out on the prairie, the screens all glowed so bright Some raised a glass in victory, some cursed the fading light The talk radio was burning, from the coast to the heartland core Arguing 'bout a battle that they'd all been in before

His allies swore revenge was coming, a promise sharp and steep While others prayed the rule of law was something they could keep A nation split right down the seam, a chasm dark and deep. Oh, sing the ballad of the verdict, sing it soft and low About the scales of justice and which way the winds will blow From the courthouse steps to the fields of grain, the story starts to grow Of a felon in the running, with a long, long way to go. I've seen this tale in sheepskin, seen it etched in Roman stone

The tribune and the emperor, each upon their throne The people cheer, the people cast the blame, the cycle turns anew The faces change, the years roll on, but the story's always true Power is a fragile thing, and truth a heavy friend And every single story has to find its bitter end. Oh, sing the ballad of the verdict, sing it soft and low About the scales of justice and which way the winds will blow From the courthouse steps to the fields of grain, the story starts to grow

Of a felon in the running, with a long, long way to go.