thin wild mercury

poor phil ochs, sad and low, hands in his pockets, wonderin' where to go, watching those tail lights leave him behind, thrown for the limousine 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 limousine, cold on the streets of, thin wild mercury, and gold lame, where things will go your way, or they won't, thin wild 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 know what they say, or you don't, no, you don't, no, you don't