The Ballad of This Morning

The sun comes up on Capitol Hill, another day of standin' still They're talkin' shutdown, drawin' lines, readin' from the same old signs The Speaker's gavel tries to crack the sound of deals made out the back And folks back home just hold their breath, and talk about a political death It's a story that you've heard before, of a locked and bolted government door. Oh, the ink ain't dry on the morning page, but it's another line on history's stage Same old fears and same old pride, with nowhere left for us to hide

From the screens of light to the market's fall, I'm just the one who sings it all This ain't the news, it's just a tune, beneath a tired and ancient moon. Down on Wall Street, the Federal men, they raised the rates and they'll do it again Or maybe not, they'll wait and see, talkin' 'bout the economy They say inflation's a stubborn fire, makin' every single price go higher The cost of bread, the cost of gas, wonderin' how long the money will last A number's game of boom and bust, turnin' solid hopes to dust.

Oh, the ink ain't dry on the morning page, but it's another line on history's stage Same old fears and same old pride, with nowhere left for us to hide From the screens of light to the market's fall, I'm just the one who sings it all This ain't the news, it's just a tune, beneath a tired and ancient moon. Out in the Valley, a brand new brain, is born of silicon and digital rain They call it 'GPT' or 'Gemini's Child', makin' the markets and the poets run wild It writes the songs, it paints the sky, and no one stops to wonder why

We're buildin' gods we can't control, for the price of a piece of our own soul A new frontier, a promised land, built by a strange and unseen hand. From the wildfire smoke on a western breeze To the whispered prayers among the trees Every headline's a human heart Beatin' itself right apart I just listen, and I write it down

As I pass on through to the very next town. Oh, the ink ain't dry on the morning page, but it's another line on history's stage Same old fears and same old pride, with nowhere left for us to hide From the screens of light to the market's fall, I'm just the one who sings it all This ain't the news, it's just a tune, beneath a tired and ancient moon.