Track 18: Life in Philadelphia. The gridlock. Watching the parties calcify. He refuses to join either side fully.
Philadelphia.
City of Brotherly Love.
Or so they say.
I walk into the chamber, the air is thick with smoke.
Democracy is real, but sometimes it’s a joke.
On the left, the Jeffersonians, aiming for the throat.
On the right, the Federalists, clutching every vote.
They look at me with suspicion, they look at me with fear.
"Whose side is he on? Why is he sitting here?"
I sit in the middle. I watch the circus play.
I watch them waste the hours of every single day.
The Senate.
It’s a slow-motion collision.
The Senate.
A study in division.
Red vs Blue. Old vs New.
And me? I’m just passing through.
Watching the gears grind.
Watching the blind lead the blind.
Monroe is shouting about the Rights of Man.
King is shouting about the fiscal plan.
They’re locking horns, they’re digging in their heels.
They’ve forgotten how a real human feels.
I cast a vote for a bridge. I cast a vote for a road.
I try to lighten the heavy load.
But they only care about the party line.
"If you're not with us, you're a swine."
It’s exhausting.
Is this what we fought for?
To scream at each other in a fancy room?
The Senate.
It’s a slow-motion collision.
The Senate.
A study in division.
I need to get back to New York.
I need to get back to the work.
Adjourn.
Please, God, adjourn.