The Traveller's Gazette

The sun comes up on a worried land The price of the gas and the bread in your hand Keeps climbin' higher, a fever that grows And the Federal Reserve, well, everybody knows They're singing their tune, a familiar strain Raising the rates to hold back the rain Of a coming recession, a word on the wind Wondering where the trouble begins, or will end. Oh, the ink is still wet on the daily page But I've seen this act on a thousand-year stage The headlines they shout, the pundits they rage Just turning through history's well-worn pages

Another new morning, another old tale Of fortune and folly, of triumph and fail. Down on the Potomac, the halls are so cold A house is divided, a story of old They're drawing their lines for November's fall Answering yesterday's desperate call From a committee room, echoes resound Of a winter's day on that Capitol ground While a new bill is signed with a hopeful pen To lower the cost, but no one knows when. Oh, the ink is still wet on the daily page But I've seen this act on a thousand-year stage

The headlines they shout, the pundits they rage Just turning through history's well-worn pages Another new morning, another old tale Of fortune and folly, of triumph and fail. The highest court's gavel, it struck a deep chord Rewriting a right, with a stroke of a word Now the people they march on the hot city square With a million new reasons for hope or despair Arguing freedoms of what's to be For the soul of a nation, and its liberty. Oh, the ink is still wet on the daily page But I've seen this act on a thousand-year stage

The headlines they shout, the pundits they rage Just turning through history's well-worn pages So I'll tune my old guitar and travel on For another new verse with the coming dawn.