[intro]

Verse 1

I remember when the news came slow,
Like the river’s hush in an evening glow,
Walter Cronkite’s steady tone,
Three channels, one truth, carved in stone.

Verse 2
We’d gather ’round the set at six,
No flashing scrolls, no viral tricks,
The anchor read, we sat and heard,
Trust was built on the weight of words.

Verse 3

Now, the news pours day and night,
Endless streams in pixel light,
Each headline burns,then fades away,
Truth is chopped in a frantic buffet.

Chorus

Bring me back to the days gone by,
When the truth felt clear and the facts could fly,
No shouting matches, no endless spin,
Just the evening news where the world checked in.

Verse 4

The faces change, the voices shout,
Every moment breeds new doubt,
We scroll for hits, we skim for speed,
But miss the part we used to read.

Verse 5

Once it felt like news was told,
To share the facts, not buy or sold,
Now it’s more a ceaseless roar,
A marketplace of outrage and war.

Verse 6

And yet, each night, I still will choose,
To watch the endless, breaking news,
Though part of me still longs to see,
The calm of 1973.

Chorus

Bring me back to the days gone by,
When the truth felt clear and the facts could fly,
No shouting matches, no endless spin,
Just the evening news where the world checked

Copyright August 12, 2025, by Craig Whitley – All Rights Reserved