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Rot in the Wires Fire in the World

I wrote this song from the perspective of my farm in Illinois, trying to reconcile the quiet around me with the noise of the digital world. I was grappling with a deep sense of disillusionment, watching the erosion of American morality play out on a screen while sitting in total silence. It’s a reflection on how the constant stream of information about systemic rot—specifically regarding figures like Trump, Epstein, and Bannon—creates a kind of national numbness. For me, this track is a plea for spiritual survival. It’s about trying to maintain personal integrity and hold onto the truth when it feels like accountability is dead. Rot in the Wires, Fire in the World [Verse 1] I’m sittin’ on this Illinois farm, sheep in the pasture, wind in the barns. Scrolling through darkness on a cracked-up phone, wondering how a country can feel this alone. The bluffs are quiet, but my mind won’t rest— truth hits harder than a fist in the chest. Ten long years of chaos and noise, but this time something breaks in my voice. [Chorus] ’Cause there’s rot in the wires, fire in the world, names in the shadows, lies unfurled. A nation numb from the things we’ve seen, livin’ every day in a half-woke dream. And I’m out here trying to stay human and whole, on a small-town farm with a half-torn soul. [Verse 2] Epstein emails read like a book of the damned— men with the world cupped tight in their hands. Laughing like kings over suffering girls, treating every nation like a toy in their world. Bannon’s monastery and Epstein’s planes, threads all woven in the same sick chain. And Trump in power just walked right through the darkness he lived wouldn't matter to you. [Chorus] There’s rot in the wires, fire in the world, secrets written out in a billionaire swirl. A country cheering while the truth burns down, still chanting Trump's name like he wears a crown. And I’m out here trying to stay human and whole, on a quiet farm fighting for my soul. [Bridge] I remember when a scandal was a misspelled word, or a scream too loud for the crowd that heard. Now we scroll past crimes that would stop the sun, say “it’s fine” and move right on. We weren’t built for this kind of dawn, where the light reveals everything wrong. Where numbness spreads like a winter freeze and the truth falls down on trembling knees. [Verse 3] Out here in a county painted red and worn, where loyalty’s rooted like rows of corn, good people shrug at a world unspun— “I dunno, Sam… maybe it’s fine, maybe it’s done.” But something’s cracking beneath our feet, in the silence where the heartbeats meet. And I’m watching sheep under gray November sky wondering how a soul keeps learning to try. [Final Chorus] Rot in the White House, fire in the world, but hope’s in the pasture where the leaves unfurl. I’m holding on tight to the things that are true— this land, this life, this breath brand new. And I’m out here trying to stay human and whole, on a small-town farm with a wide-open soul. Still staying human… God help me stay whole.