The Turning of the Page

The price of bread is on the rise again The gas pump groans a sorrowful amen From Washington, a man named Powell speaks Of tightening belts for weeks and weeks and weeks He pulls a lever, turns a dial slow To tame a wind he says he didn't sow And families round the table count the cost Another little piece of something lost Oh, the ink is wet, the screen is bright Telling stories of the dark and light But the river's old, the current's strong

It's just another verse in an endless song The wheel it turns, the page is new But the tale's the same for me and you The lines are drawn in fields of red and blue Each side is sure their version is the truth The television shouts a frantic plea For the soul of what we're meant to be There's talk of votes and walls and border lines And anger twisting up the new grapevines They promise change with every coming fall But the echo's all I hear, bouncing off the wall

Oh, the ink is wet, the screen is bright Telling stories of the dark and light But the river's old, the current's strong It's just another verse in an endless song The wheel it turns, the page is new But the tale's the same for me and you The thinking wires have learned to paint and rhyme A ghost that's stealing work and killing time While nine old robes upon a marble hill Unwind the clock and make the world stand still The future's born, the past is clawing back

We're running forward on a backwards track Oh, the ink is wet, the screen is bright Telling stories of the dark and light But the river's old, the current's strong It's just another verse in an endless song The wheel it turns, the page is new But the tale's the same for me and you