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" d**h 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