The words in THE CUMBERLAND RIVER PROJECT’s “It’s Still Going On” have a tinge of radical disillusion and rebellious hope. Lead vocalist recalls a day when a new dawn was a palpable prospect after Berlin’s fall and when his heart was convinced that world politics had irrevocably shifted into a pacifist orbit. His words have a feeling of how fervent that hope once was and how wounded its declining arc is.

Early on, THE CUMBERLAND RIVER PROJECT states that he was optimistic about people. Optimistic that after all these years of warring, after all these years of destruction, that destruction would have no place in their future anymore. This optimism sounds incredibly personal, as if now after having celebrated that humanity would at last be able to decide on harmonies and not on hate. Browsing today’s newsheadlines makes you think of another kind of world. The lyrics bemoan seeing everything fall apart once again as if watching history repeat itself.

The words that he employs create a difficult but humble juxtaposition between values once held on his behalf and those things which he witnesses today. Specifically, his image of turning plowshares into swords resonates. It images a sort of reverse evolution on humanity’s behalf—turning growth tools into weapons. It’s a melancholy photograph that says a great deal about human decision-making. Rather than going forward and creating a better world, THE CUMBERLAND RIVER PROJECT bears witness to a decision on humanity’s behalf for violence once again.

He also alludes to things learned by human beings. These are of having allowed life and peace to bloom, represented by flowers blossoming. This floral metaphor is uplifting and soft. It represents beauty, renewal, and future freedom from pain. Repetition of same hope however, repeated and repeated, and with harsher reality of pain and war still ongoing makes lyrics oppressive. Frustration by artist becomes evident every time that hope of “no more pain and no oppression” is repeated and then harsher reality that “it’s still going on” comes after it.

There is throughout the work as well a sense of immense sorrow for the human loss of war. THE CUMBERLAND RIVER PROJECT lingers on pain of mothers’ loss of their sons and white crosses at attention in cemeteries. These are simple images that have such impact. War cost and pain become here and now and not merely out there and elsewhere. In speaking of these losses, the artist asks us a question of what, exactly, war is: people’s real life, real tears, real grief.

The question in lyrics is if a state of peace is a possibility or not. The musician asks if violence is inherent in humanity and if humanity has to keep going around and around. CAIN and Abel references make it a pointed comment as a potential pleading if combat was inherent in humanity as humanity itself. It’s a sore feeling, but a truthful acknowledgment of the evil that resurges time and time again despite people feeling like they’ve worked beyond its capability.

Never once throughout this doubt and frustration, however, does the song lapse into hopelessness. In its final declaration, its parodying of John Lennon’s grand bumper sticker phrase, there’s more than a nod taking place. There’s a suggestion that despite how ridiculous dreaming of a world at peace sounds, that musician still would like to believe in that. In concluding with the phrase, “You may say that I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one,” that personal desire is founded upon something greater, shared by others as well, that a better world can exist.

It’s powerful because it uses simple words. THE CUMBERLAND RIVER PROJECT doesn’t resort to tough words or ideas to cover behind. It talks openly of hurt and hope and disillusion, and that makes his song so real. It’s as if one is reading a person out of a place of hurt and not a place of insincerity. It makes that hurt and pain and suffering all that more potent.

The refrain here is structural too—it’s the loop that happens depending on how a viewer watches. Again and again, he insists things can and do change and then insists on saying that “It’s still going on.” This refrain subjects us personally to repeated tragedies repeated time and time and time again. It’s as if after a while and a repetition a certain kind of disappointment forms and hope hangs in obstinately.

Its emotional power is likewise its balancing of broad canvas and personal anguish. He refers to his history, evolution, and man’s sin, and always returns to mothers wailing and crosses in a queue. While connecting personal and universal, and while asking us to view war as a universal and not a term of abstraction, these words are a powerful reminder.

And another powerful aspect is THE CUMBERLAND RIVER PROJECT showing frustration and hope can coexist. He had figured people had learned. He still would like to have that hope that exists. And then, however, he’s watching all the signals that nothing’s actually changed. This emotional dynamic makes this song authentic, because that’s a prevailing experience for a great amount of people watching conflict to coexist on Earth: desire for a day of no conflict, and skepticism that a day like that will exist.

Ultimately, lyrics on “It’s Still Going On” actually never do provide solutions. Rather, by them, we experience pain, confusion, and defiant hope by the artist. Pain goes well through these lyrics, as does determination not to quite give up hope for peace. In doing so, THE CUMBERLAND RIVER PROJECT doesn’t merely bemoan a state of affairs on Earth. He makes us experience his frustration and possibly hope with him while hope itself does seem lost. The song is remarkable by virtue of its sincerity and humanity. It doesn’t wish pain away and doesn’t lose hope either that a better world is possible after all. In hitting such a two-pronged place, the words become memorable and connective, and that’s why “It’s Still Going On” by THE CUMBERLAND RIVER PROJECT hurts and inspires at once.