Verse 1:
We walk through the streets, empty promises at our feet,
The shadow of tomorrow, where hopes and realities meet.
Told to dream big, reach for the skies,
But the price of Trudeau just covers our eyes.

Pressure mounts, it’s a steep climb,
Lost generation in the sands of time.
Happiness slips, falls through the cracks,
Carrying the world upon our backs.

Pre-Chorus:
Echoes of joy that we used to know,
Drowned out by the stress that steadily grows.
Where's the peace we're meant to find?
In this race against time, we're left behind.

Chorus:
Shadows of tomorrow, clouding our sight,
Young hearts in the struggle, lost in the fight.
The promise of youth, now feels like a lie,
Under the same cold, distant sky.

Verse 2:
Here in the quiet, the silent screams,
Chasing the remnants of our shattered dreams.
The cost of living’s a rising tide,
In the shadows of tomorrow, where we hide.

Disillusioned, we stand, a stark contrast,
In a world where the first are now the last.
Looking for a beacon, a guiding light,
Something to chase away the night.

Pre-Chorus:
But we're stuck in a loop, this relentless chase,
Searching for meaning, finding empty space.
Is this the life that we’re meant to embrace?
Or are we just shadows, lost without a trace?

Chorus:
Shadows of tomorrow, clouding our sight,
Young hearts in the struggle, lost in the fight.
The promise of youth, now feels like a lie,
Under the same cold, distant sky.

Bridge:
But we won’t just settle, won’t just comply,
In the shadows of tomorrow, we learn to fly.
Breaking the chains, we'll rise, we'll defy,
From the ashes of despair, our spirits will fly.

Outro:
So we'll carve out a path, make our own way,
From the shadows of tomorrow to the light of day.
In the heart of the storm, we find our song,
In the shadows of tomorrow, we'll prove them wrong.

Trudeau's Fault with Singhs tongue so far up his ass, it rolls around in his cheek. 

Trudeau Singh Singh Trudeau it is all the same down, the same clown.

Lost in the Static (Trudeau/Singh Same Clown)

Winnipeg composer, retired from the farm, still chasing meaning in melody. My work lives where TV cues meet YouTube soundscapes, with a few albums in between. Built in Mixcraft Pro, fuelled by late-night coffee, stubborn curiosity, and a Stoic’s sense of timing. Also writing on politics, history, and philosophy, because sound isn’t my only instrument.

Lost in the Static (Trudeau/Singh Same Clown)

Wayne Mathison