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(To tune of “When They Begin the Begin,” by Cole Porter)

When they turn on the machine
They turn off truth, and stifle the candor
They turn on lies, resplendent with slander
They turn up nastiness, really mean

We’re voting once more, soon at the polls
They’re out to obscure, and cloud our selection
They’re making a farce, of our election
When they turn on the machine

The candidates speak, in eloquent phrases
Ghost written words, to capture our hearts
To them we’re each, only a cow that grazes
To fatten with praises
Then run off like tarts

To vote is so real
To not vote obscene
To live in a democracy
Where freedom, has weathered
To know that to hope and
A dream, we’re all tethered
To an ideal, pure and clean

So don’t let them turn on the machine
Tell them no
Tell them country is bigger than
Lust for some power
Tell them we’re disenchanted more
By the hour,
Vote them all out, of the scene.

They’ll know they’re talking to themselves
No one cares
We’re not hearing those promises
No one will heed them
We’re not listening anymore
We don’t need them

And never again
After they’re gone
Will they turn on,
The machine.

Lyric © 2012 by Robert S. Steinberg
All rights reserved

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