The Muted Mic Ballad

The summer air was thick and hot, A nation tangled in a knot. Two old men for a single crown, Met on a stage in Atlanta town. One with the weight of the world he holds, The other with stories he's often told. The people watched on their glowing screens, For a glimpse behind the political scenes. Oh, gather 'round and a tale I'll tell, Of a silent mic and a wishing well. Where a country's hopes are thrown inside,

With nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. It's a brand new verse to an ancient song, Of where the power and the people belong. The lights came up, the time began, A faltering voice from a weary man. A whisper lost, a thought astray, While the other one pushed his words away. He painted pictures of fire and might, Turned every question from dark to light. And the button pushed to make it fair, Just left a silence hanging in the air.

Oh, gather 'round and a tale I'll tell, Of a silent mic and a wishing well. Where a country's hopes are thrown inside, With nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. It's a brand new verse to an ancient song, Of where the power and the people belong. And up on the hill, the court decrees, A king is a man, down on his knees. Immunity's a shield, but full of holes, For private sins that haunt men's souls. They sent the case back down the line,

Buying the future a little more time. So the trial waits, the clock still ticks, In the endless game of politics. Oh, gather 'round and a tale I'll tell, Of a silent mic and a wishing well. Where a country's hopes are thrown inside, With nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. It's a brand new verse to an ancient song, Of where the power and the people belong.