[Verse 1] Polls creak open at sunrise, lines wrapping round the block, Globe and Mail says reckoning, NYT says sprint the clock. CBC counts five reasons blue might stumble at the door, while The Conversation swears the Senate's tipping toward the floor. Same morning, two forecasts, like weather calls from different states, one says storm is coming, one says clear skies, don't be late — candidates sprinting final hours, shaking every hand they find, closing chapter for the President, open book for everyone's mind. [Chorus] Ballots drop like autumn leaves, counting through the night, two headlines, one election, nobody's got it tight. Capital rewired, the strait is churning steel, November third keeps spinning like a jazzy Rhodes-key wheel. [Verse 2] Meanwhile Reuters walks the grounds where the makeover's in bloom, scaffolding and marble dust inside the Oval Room. Trump's reshaping Washington, brick by brick, room by room, while voters out past the gates argue who gets the broom. Renovation on the inside, revolution at the booth, the architecture's shifting while they're counting out the truth. [Verse 3] Out past Hormuz the warships hum, PBS breaks the news, U.S. strikes Iranian targets, tension in the blues. Back home Le Monde is watching something quieter unfold, the American left ditching slogans for the stories socialism told — disillusioned with identity, reaching further left again, history's old record spinning, needle drops right back on ten. [Chorus] Ballots drop like autumn leaves, counting through the night, two headlines, one election, nobody's got it tight. Capital rewired, the strait is churning steel, November third keeps spinning like a jazzy Rhodes-key wheel. [Verse 4] Down in Georgia, up in Jersey, local races hold the key, school boards and the sheriff's office, democracy writ small and free. Pundits parse the early vote like tea leaves in a cup, turnout models, crosstabs, numbers nobody can add up. Meanwhile overseas the markets watch the dollar rise and fall, every headline hedging bets, nobody calling it at all. The anchors fill the dead air with graphics, maps, and guessing games, while somewhere in a counting room they're double-checking names. This is how the system breathes, in rumor, leak, and light, democracy's an all-night diner open through the fight. [Bridge] Five reasons no, one lead expanding yes, democracy's a Rorschach blot, depends who you ask to guess. Whichever way the Congress tips when every booth goes still, the chapter's closing somewhere between the sandbags and the drill. [Outro] So mark the date, November third, the wheel keeps turning slow, polls and strikes and marble dust — that's the news, that's the flow. [Chorus] Ballots drop like autumn leaves, counting through the night, two headlines, one election, nobody's got it tight. Capital rewired, the strait is churning steel, November third keeps spinning like a jazzy Rhodes-key wheel.
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