The Gavel's Down

In a New York courtroom, the air was thick and strange A former king on a public stage The whispers counted, one by one they fell Thirty-four secrets the books would tell Of hidden payments, a story kept unseen The first time ever that a president has been Marked by the law in such a final way A guilty verdict at the close of day. Oh, the ink is dry, the gavel's down Another story in a restless town The headlines burn, the whispers fly

Beneath a tired and watchful sky It's the same old song, a different year Of power, and of hope, and fear. Now south we look, where the Rio Grande flows And a weary wind of new policy blows The man in charge, he draws a heavy line A door is closed by executive design Two thousand five hundred, a number in the sand To turn away a soul from the promised land The ones who walk through desert sun and stone Find a new wall where a seed of hope was sown.

Oh, the ink is dry, the gavel's down Another story in a restless town The headlines burn, the whispers fly Beneath a tired and watchful sky It's the same old song, a different year Of power, and of hope, and fear. Meanwhile the sun, it holds a fever dream Scorching the asphalt, drying up the stream The western winds don't bring the cooling rain Just a hazy smoke and a familiar pain We fight our battles of paper and of ink

Standing on a world that's on the brink We argue borders and who is right or wrong While nature sings a terrifying song. Oh, the ink is dry, the gavel's down Another story in a restless town The headlines burn, the whispers fly Beneath a tired and watchful sky It's the same old song, a different year Of power, and of hope, and fear.