How far can presidential pardons really go? Far enough that “law” starts to look like a stage prop and the Oval Office more like a ritual chamber than a branch of government. Some pretend that pardoning the January 6 crowd would be some unimaginable crossing of a red line, but the line was erased a long time ago—Andrew Johnson wiped the slate clean for Confederate leaders who tried to break the country in half, and the republic shrugged and moved on, rebuilt with the same hands that tried to burn it down. That’s the real pattern: one president puts people in cages to prove the system still has teeth, the next president unlocks the door to prove he’s above vengeance, and together they write a script where crime and punishment are just rotating costumes. Every pardon rewrites the past, quietly declaring: “What you thought was treason was just politics; what you thought was justice was just a temporary mood.” The public sees headlines about insurrections, indictments, mugshots, and perp walks, then a few years later watches the same names stroll out of the prison gates, absolved by a signature they never voted for. This is the cycle—one president locks up, another pardons, and over time the message sinks in: there are two sets of laws in America, one for insurrectionists/freedom fighters and one for the people who own the pens that make it all disappear.

The Earth starts to rumble
World powers fall
A warring for the heavens
A peaceful man stands tall