Lafayette Square

This track was born from a real headline: The continuous peace vigil in Lafayette Square outside the White House, where thousands gather nightly with candles to demand a ceasefire, echoing decades of anti-war protest tradition at the same location. Muckraker's indie-folk production gives the story the weight of a front-page exclusive — journalism you can feel in your chest. Lines like "There's a woman who's been standing since the second night of March," anchor the track in specifics that generic coverage misses. The mood — reflective, mournful, quietly defiant — reflects the emotional reality behind the numbers. Every Majik's Studio news track exists to make you feel the story, not just read it.

[verse 1] There's a woman who's been standing since the second night of March, With a candle and a cardboard sign beneath the iron arch. Lafayette Square at midnight, you can see the White House glow, And a thousand quiet people in a line that starts to grow. She's a teacher from Virginia, fifty-three years old, Said I marched against Iraq and now I'm back out in the cold. The veteran beside her lost his hearing in Fallujah, Holds a sign that says I fought your war, I'm asking you to choose a Different ending than the one I lived, a different kind of brave, Not the kind that fills a graveyard but the kind that learns to save. A college kid from Howard brought a guitar and a song, Played it soft enough to whisper but the crowd was singing along. The park police stood watching from the edges of the grass, And for once nobody moved them, for once they let it pass. Because the silence of a thousand flames is louder than a shout, And the whole world saw the square lit up and knew what it's about. [chorus] Hold the light, hold the light, One small flame against the weight of every night. Hold the light, hold the light, Lafayette is burning quiet, burning bright. Hold the light, hold the light, We will stand until the morning proves us right. [verse 2] By the second week the numbers swelled to ten then twenty thousand, Families driving in from Pennsylvania, sleeping on the ground and Sharing blankets, sharing stories, sharing coffee from a thermos, Every stranger is a neighbor when the cause is to confirm us. A rabbi and an imam stood together by the fence, Read a prayer for the fallen that transcended every tense. The cameras came from Tokyo, from London, from Sao Paulo, And the image of the candles in the dark became a motto. Somebody projected names of the dead across the stone, And the monument to Jackson wore the weight of every bone. A mother held her sleeping child, four years old, in a wrap, Said I want her to remember this, I want her on the map Of people who showed up when it was easier to stay In the warmth of their own houses and just look the other way. But we're here, we're standing, and the wax is on our hands, And the president can see us if he'd only care to stand. [chorus] Hold the light, hold the light, One small flame against the weight of every night. Hold the light, hold the light, Lafayette is burning quiet, burning bright. Hold the light, hold the light, We will stand until the morning proves us right. [bridge] Connie Picciotto stood here for thirty-five straight years, Outside the White House, rain and shine, through every war and tears. She passed away but left a chair that no one's ever filled, Tonight a thousand people came and honored what she built. So we stand where she stood standing, in the shadow of the gate, And we hold the light she carried and we tell the dark to wait. [chorus] Hold the light, hold the light, One small flame against the weight of every night. Hold the light, hold the light, Lafayette is burning quiet, burning bright. Hold the light, hold the light, We will stand until the morning proves us right. [outro] Hold the light... hold the light... The square is full and the candles stretch for blocks tonight. Hold the light... hold the light... Lafayette won't sleep until the war is out of sight.