Here comes Phil Ochs shovel on his shoulder
Trailing a hoe along the Ho Chi Minh trail
But the trail is on Bleeker Street
And Phil's on his uppers
It's the mid-nineteen seventies and its not looking too good
For a man with a mission and a man with a passion
When you run out of fashion
And it don't come crawling back

Here comes Phil Ochs, he's got a chip on his shoulder
They can't cut his jacket to cover it up
When one war is over but ten are beginning
And the movement's gone missing because they all just moved away
Oh they moved into property, they moved off into futures
They moved into ads, and that's as sad as it can get

Run, run, run from Phil,
Phil's on a three-day drunk
He's up on his high horse, he's staggering and sauced
Run, run, run from Phil,
Phil's on a three-day drunk
But he wasn't alone when he stumbled off course

Here comes Phil Ochs, devil on his shoulder
Carrying his guitar and the weight of the world
But if there's a place for the millionaires,
then there's s___e for the troubadour
And while there's a s___e, there's always a chance out there
That a melody lingers, and we keep getting singers
Who've got more on their minds
Than the latest Dow Jones share ...

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