The battle's been lost, the war is not won.
An addled republic, a bitter refund.
The business first flat earthers licking their wounds.
The verdict is dire, the country's in ruins.

Providence blinked, facing the son.
And where are we left to carry on?
Until the day is done. Until the day is done.

So we've written our stories to entertain.
These notions of glory and bull market gain.
The teleprompt flutters, a power surge brings.
An easyspeak message falls into routine.

Providence blinked, facing the son.
And where are we left to carry on?
Until the day is done. Until the day is done.

A voice whispers <<Son>>.
The blessed vision comes.
What have I done? What have I done?

So hold tight your babies and your guns.
Forgive us our trespasses, father and son.

Providence blinked, facing the son.
And where are we left to carry on?
Until the day is done. Until the day is done.
Until the day is done.


 

 

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