Isn’t it over
The ambush of noise and pageantry
Can we move on to the issues friends
What message does it send to continue
Down a trick path
Of rallied souls for nothing more than TV
When can we move on and talk about wages
Wars and other issues of the day
Rallies are not everything
People show up and make noise
But that resolves little
Little done in little time
We are all now forced to walk the line
Back on the road
48 hours in tow
Here we go
Another long haul
From the nights of deserts moons
To the Gypsies of Boulder
We will roll on down the highway
Tour
Perform
And do it again
Here it comes
A blazing infamous glory
From the tops of Washington
A news story
The pipeline will continue
My heart hangs on a line
People held in embrace
The dust settles for a difficult time
The hope was for some change of hands
The force of power
On sacred lands
But for now people head home
The risk of arrest to great to run
From that single act a stable life
Can be undone
I will research I will hope to understand more
The fields of dirt washed with northern snow
Where will the lonely hearts go
My heart goes out to the lovers
But the old train is going to roll along
Right after the last standing protester is gone
Gone
Dark snow on a light morning
Somehow these days develop
With no warning
Rain falls
Snow to follow
Swallowed up in the lack of light
Untidier and unclean
Steering down the road
Coffee awakes the soul
Somehow I know that more is to come
More uncertainty
More long nights
And warm mornings
Crack the egg
Make the meal
The seal of a simple morning
As the lights come on
It all comes down to the wire
Unwired and unplugged
Unscrewed undone
Why are we all caught up in the glue
Of the everyday
Power is power
Love is love
What comes above
Is respect and dignity
Unbeknownst to me
How to relearn
Love and noise
Are separated at the inception
I hope we all separate the truth
From deception
Stars in the news
Youtube megamillions
Billions of views
PewDiePie
Honestly, what the hell
Is going on
Where did we get it all wrong
From one not to the next
This is a most horrendous song
You get what you pay for
But I didn’t pay for this
Bombshells like his
Goodness
What will become of the hundreds
Thousands
That end up giving up everything
Come up just a bit short
Short of the goal
Slightly off the objective
What happens when those souls
Examine minimum wage
And reconsider everything
Starting with their age
These revelations come on off days
When I am at the store
Realize somehow everything moves along
Push the grocery shopping cart
Keep shopping
Shake it off
What is with the lights
The flashing down the street
What the hell
On a Saturday night
Is that where we were supposed to stay
I hope everyone is OK
The world move a little slower that night in LA
What a night
What a morning
In the morning
We should get going
Malls
What will become of these ancient beasts
As the tides of merchandising physically
Eternally decrease
What will happen to the giant escalators
The buildings will be filled with vacancies
Then what are we left with
A skeleton of what was
Hieroglyphics to be studied about our culture
Pulled apart like the bones of a unlucky prey
Beneath the vulture
What will become of these voids
As our time will be filled up with droids
Clouds in the sky raining on empty buildings
It will not come soon
For some maybe not soon enough
What will happen when tastes and preferences move on
The malls are going to get ditched
Pretty rough
Sweet of me
Coffee on a Friday night
Slow motion
Next to the Atlantic Ocean
Our bed is a revolving door
Ask me tonight and I will be unsure
Of where I will sleep tomorrow
But tonight I drink you in sweet
In a cafe
Near the Abbott Kinney street
A Cup of Songwriting 