The Promised Land

The dust is unacceptable though the air is very still
And the ancient bus is coughing as it splutters up the hill
Down in the valley, lightning flashes, split a frightened sky
And buzzards wheel and wait for all the animals to die

The scene moves to the mountain top where, toiling through the night
To the sunrise haze, communiqués from the left and from the right
Are passed along down passageways from the many focus groups
Info packs for the hungry hacks and the waiting party troops

They talk of how the failing rains have been getting out of hand
And of regret they haven't yet produced the promised land
And yes, we can be reassured about the steepness of that hill
And of the rush there is to push their transportation bill

They worry about the lightning storm, they ask me how it feels
I say I think they're missing out on loftier ideals
That maybe they should take a glance at the buzzards in the sky
They shake my hand and say I've been a really helpful guy

So, we offer up our precious votes with all those hopes and dreams
The focus groups have done their work or that's the way it seems
We all become their Facebook friends we take their Twitter feed
And ironically, they follow us when once they used to lead

Yet, the dust is unexplainable though the air is deathly still
The ancient bus still coughs and struggles gamely on the hill
Down in the valley, thunder roars across a frightened sky
The buzzards wheel and wait for all the animals to die