The Storyteller's Dispatch

Gather 'round and listen to my tale A wind of worry's blowin' in the mail It comes right through the glass screen in your hand A dancing app across this troubled land A hundred seventy million voices, bright and bold But a story's being sold from days of old The men in Washington, they fear a foreign spy And tell a company from Beijing, 'Sell or die.' Oh, the headlines spin another weary yarn From the city skyscraper to the country barn It's a brand new day, but the song's as old as stone About the seeds of trouble that the powerful have sown

And the common folk just try to get along Singin' this old, familiar, worried song The price of milk, the cost of gasoline It's the tightest budget that you've ever seen The men who watch the money, sharp and gray Say the help you're hopin' for is far away The Federal Reserve, they look at all the signs And read the future in between the lines They say that inflation's ghost is walkin' still So the interest rates are staying on the hill Oh, the headlines spin another weary yarn From the city skyscraper to the country barn

It's a brand new day, but the song's as old as stone About the seeds of trouble that the powerful have sown And the common folk just try to get along Singin' this old, familiar, worried song From the screen that knows you to the coin you spend To the silver bird where journeys start and end It's a tangled web of power, greed, and grace Just another chapter for the human race They build 'em bigger and they watch 'em fall And the storyteller's seen it all Now a giant's wings are showin' cracks of rust A name like Boeing turning into dust

A door plug fell six miles from the blue Left a gaping hole for fear to hurry through The FAA is knockin' on the door A-wonderin' what they build those engines for They talk of safety, audits, and of blame But every traveler whispers its name Oh, the headlines spin another weary yarn From the city skyscraper to the country barn It's a brand new day, but the song's as old as stone About the seeds of trouble that the powerful have sown And the common folk just try to get along Singin' this old, familiar, worried song