The Long Refrain

The gavel fell on a summer's day In a Manhattan court, not far away A former king, in a tailored suit Stood to hear the bitter fruit Of thirty-four whispers, bought and sold A story now that's getting old The jury sat, a dozen strong And thirty-four times, they found him wrong. And the headlines turn the page Upon this hurried, modern stage But it's the same old pride, the same old fall The same old writing on the wall I sing the news, but the tune's the same

Just another verse in the long refrain. The prairie winds begin to moan Tearing down what folks have grown From Texas up to Iowa's fields The sky decides what harvest yields And in the town, the price of bread Fills the weary heart with dread The banker's numbers, cold and high While a funnel cloud darkens the sky. And the headlines turn the page Upon this hurried, modern stage But it's the same old dust, the same old rain The same old struggle, the same old pain

I sing the news, but the tune's the same Just another verse in the long refrain. They built a mind of wire and light To speak with a voice in the dead of night Stole a shadow from a silver screen A ghost that haunts the new machine A woman says, "That voice is mine," A human soul on a digital line We build our gods, then stand in awe Defying nature, and defying law. And the headlines turn the page Upon this hurried, modern stage But it's the same old magic, same old fear

As the future makes itself so clear I sing the news, but the tune's the same Just another verse in the long refrain.