Poor Phil Ochs, sad and low

Hands in his pockets, wonderin' where to go

Watching those tail lights leave him behind

Thrown for the limosene for speaking his mind

Like a red-eyed photo into a garbage can

At the corner of hero and also ran

A fragile heart skipped a fragile beat

It's warm in the limosene, cold on the streets of


Thin wild mercury

And gold lame

Where things will go your way

Or they won't

Thin wind mercury

And gold lame

You know what they say

Or you don't


It was all over some new Dylan song

That Phil had the nerve to say sounded wrong

Dylan stopped the car, words shook like a fist

"Phil, you ain't a writer, you're a journalist"

Death of a rebel, twist of fate

If he ever thought better, he thought too late

Poor Phil Ochs, he slipped through the cracks

Judas went electric and he never looked back on....


Thin wild mercury

And gold lame

Where things will go your way

Or they won't

Thin wild mercury

And gold lame

You konw what they say

Or you don't

No, you don't

No, you don't