Are you ready?
Beneath the dome of marble white,
The tides of power turn in the night.
The voters will speak, ballots be cast,
A quiet storm breaks through at last.
Across the state line and the shore,
The blue line will rise to reclaim the floor,
To take the gavel, claim the seats,
And tally up the long defeats.
For years the grievances were kept,
While anger simmered, never slept.
Now back in power, armed with law,
We sharpen every pitchfork and claw.
With sub-poenas drawn like steel,
To turn the legislative wheel,
No longer waiting, bound to track
Every shadow, strike for strike, and answer back.
The gavel strikes, the quiet ends,
As history's heavy arc bends;
A bitter reckoning will take its place,
In jail cells and time and space.