[Verse 1] The tariff walls went up, supposed to bring the gold But Treasury's counting gaps, and honey, what they're told Is somewhere between nineteen and twenty-six billion gone Countries routing shipments sideways, working every con The revenue they promised? Slipping through the cracks Aureate arithmetic don't cover up the facts Washington is watching as the ledger bleeds away Dodging every tariff wall they built to make them pay [Chorus] Sixteen August, read the headlines clear The White House wants a ballroom, but the money's disappearing here Supreme Court gets a motion, golden seals upon the wall Karoline Leavitt's stepping back from answering every call The news keeps moving, nothing standing still August sixteenth, twenty twenty-six, and honey, read it til You understand the story underneath the gilded overlay Sixteen August, that's the news today [Verse 2] Now the President wants a ballroom, droneport, gilded hall Renderings showing opulence cascading wall to wall But preservation law says stop — you cannot break the ground So the Supreme Court gets a filing, going nine rounds Golden seals and glittering vaults, a palatial design While the legal question lingers on that constitutional line Wallpaper magazine's revealing every glinting beam A ballroom built for spectacle, an auriferous dream [Chorus] Sixteen August, read the headlines clear The White House wants a ballroom, but the money's disappearing here Supreme Court gets a motion, golden seals upon the wall Karoline Leavitt's stepping back from answering every call The news keeps moving, nothing standing still August sixteenth, twenty twenty-six, and honey, read it til You understand the story underneath the gilded overlay Sixteen August, that's the news today [Bridge] Karoline Leavitt, she was standing at that podium NPR confirmed she's leaving — end of her emporium Meanwhile across the oceans, something quieter stirs A silent war with Iran, Le Monde's breaking what occurs Withheld information, shifting targets, skilled deceit The diplomacy is tangled somewhere under the concrete [Verse 3] And somewhere in the margins, other stories hold their breath The feed keeps scrolling faster, every headline flirts with death Of something we once counted on — the steady, measured word A press room built on questions, now the questions go unheard But people still are reading, still are pulling at the thread Still adding up the numbers someone prays you'll leave for dead The sixteenth of August, just another spinning day But every day you're watching means the truth finds its own way
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