The Wheel of Fortune Groans

The summer sun hangs hot and low, on screens that cast a pale blue glow. A weary nation holds its breath, to watch a stage of life and death. Two old men we've seen before, to settle up a long-held score. One a king who lost the thread, one whose words wake up the dead. Oh, the wheel of fortune, how it groans, on whispered words and brittle bones. The story's old, the ink is new, for me and you, for me and you. We watch the giants rise and fall, and write their names upon the wall.

But the wind just blows the dust away, to fight again another day. Joe's voice was a rasping plea, a ghost of what it used to be. He stumbled on a train of thought, a battle bravely, poorly fought. Then Donald came with fire and sound, on weakness that he'd quickly found. A storm of boasts, a flood of claims, calling out his rival's names. Oh, the wheel of fortune, how it groans, on whispered words and brittle bones. The story's old, the ink is new, for me and you, for me and you.

We watch the giants rise and fall, and write their names upon the wall. But the wind just blows the dust away, to fight again another day. Then down the street, in halls of white, nine judges argued through the night. They weighed the power of a man, and changed the course of law and plan. An "official act" can be excused, a "private" one can be accused. So Trump v. United States must wait, and seal a delayed trial's fate. And the farmer checks the worried sky, the driver watches cars go by.

The mother rocks her child to sleep, with promises she hopes to keep. We hear the noise, we feel the strain, like thunder from a distant train. Is it coming for us, or passing on? We'll only know when the storm is gone. Oh, the wheel of fortune, how it groans, on whispered words and brittle bones. The story's old, the ink is new, for me and you, for me and you. We watch the giants rise and fall, and write their names upon the wall. But the wind just blows the dust away, to fight again another day.