Why are you waiting?You asked me to listen.But nothing you say really seems to add up.You bring in the worst kind of attention.But no attention at all would make you feel like a loser.Some kind of loser.And I won’t dispute those feelings.I just don’t have the time.It looks like you do with everything you’re wastingJust like it’s nothing at all and like there’s nothing to lose.The more I’m thinking my lights are blinkingThat there’s no punch line at all.It’s just talking and you keep talking.It’s so damn exhausting that it’s caused me to say… No more – I’m sick and tired of believing that anyone cares.No more – I’m sick and tired of it being you or not me. Why are you waiting?You asked me to listen.But nothing you say really seems to add up.You know you’re sinking so you start drinkingAnd it starts all over again.But the harder you’re trying the deeper the lying.My patience is dying and I’m just dying to say… No more – I’m sick and tired.Believe it – no one cares.Save it – I’ve realized that all you’ve done and all you’ve said is“I don’t know.”

Your karma loses with perfect excuses.Lock them down!Lock them down!Straddle all the fences.It keeps you defenseless.Knock them down!Knock them down! Stand up and be counted.You’re surrounded. Remember this.Why bother pretending?You’ll never see the ending.Remember this. All that’s against you is only what you take with you.Let it go!Let it go!You’re fate deciding there’s no point in hiding.Let it go!Let it go! Quit trying to mock truth.It always finds you.Now you know.

Bite the bullet or bite your tongue.That thin line you walk is second to none.So should I keep moving?Because I haven’t figured it out. You’re fluent in talking shit.You’d like to think it’s a virtue.I think you like it because it makes you forgetThat your first language is misery. That line is not mine.That line is not mine.You sure carry a lot.Go see what the wire’s got. I’d love to tell you so you’d know it was me.Because nobody’s figured it out.So should I keep moving?Nobody’s figured it out. That line is not mine.That line is not mine.It takes my guilt away.But just for today.

Performing under assumed namesat the club where you first played.Your awkward charm now utterly gone.So utterly gone.Replaced with deep disengagementas a defense against painits misconstrued as a forcedeveloped to keep guest lists short.And we recall how youd hate thisComparing tips with the waitress.Oh I know I know whokeeps coming up with all these stupid rules.Local celebrities on a bigger stage.Local celebrities when theyre tossed that way.We feel you owe us some tokenfor the contract youve brokenby not remaining wedded to themesyou explored in your teens.But time will leave art debasedand it will annihilate all tracesof the unbridled rush that wed getfrom those manic early sets.From waving ironic lightersto catching up on our nightmaresbut I know I know whokeeps coming up with all these stupid rules.Local celebrities on a bigger stage.Local celebrities when theyre tossed that way.The lighting alters its textureand everyones past is right thereand at the same time utterly gone.So utterly gone...

Were engaged in the taskof swapping purity for depthto perpetrate our artwith the authority our broken heroes had.I want to do more than tolerate your lies.If only we could be relieved of all weve donein keeping these fences in such marvelous repairto distract from what was never there.Your unappointed questions havethe same effect as a flashlightplaying back and forthacross a strangers dark and cluttered room.I want to do more than tolerate your lies.If only we could be relieved of all weve donein keeping these fences in such marvelous repairto distract from what was never there.

How are you? Im writing you from school.All I sacrificed to get hereand I just want to talk to you.One month down and I still feel so alone.Theres still years left to go.And all the things I thought Id learn are barely taught.Were just instructed to lean backand think some frilly cautious thoughts.Id collapse into your arms if you were hereand douse your shirt in tears.Im assaulted by the verse of peersthat stresses line by linehow anythings assertable as long as it can rhyme.And they all inhabit fictionslike these workshops will inspirehearts abbreviated to a singular desire.And their books line up like furniture they shine.And the light makes constellations on their uncorrupted spines.And if one desire was all I had to choose...Id wish that I was with you.

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The Passing Of My Life Lyrics

Q: My Landscape is Not Land

Theyre lurking at each stop a sea of expatriate Americans who will reveal their ignorance with zeal.They natter at me in their unbroken Englishthen indulge in outdoor drinking sprees just for the novelty.Stars in this tourist skybleached out by city lights again.Coins weigh down my pockets with their elusive valueand it makes me to spend them all on more alcohol.Until I can barely stand. Until my landscape is not land.Just the sounds of passing things. Just remembering...Stars in the swollen skyreach out for you tonight again.These countries passing like a film unspooled by handcoloured by your absenceI... suddenly Im learning howsomething that makes a constant soundbecomes a default silence thenas it repeats again and again and again.Stars in another skyshine for your distant eyes again.

Q: Raise a Styrofoam Cup

Quick our hosts are going to close their eyes to kissand were the last people that they are going to miss.So lets smuggle some of wine out from the barand hide out until the silent auction in your car.And raise a styrofoam cupbecause beneath it allthere was something here to seethat even now with sober heartsyoure the closest thing to me.You first knew me as this awkward teenage kidwho dressed like Morrisey with spots and jutting ribsshrouding all the uncompelling things in mein a silence that inferred great mystery.So raise a styrofoam cupcause beneath it allthere was something here to seethat even now with sober heartsyoure the closest thing to me.And may our hosts find wedded lovesomewhere far away from us.Well bear witness to our own slow subtle changeyeah and poke fun at all the things that still remain.So raise a styrofoam cupbecause beneath it allthere was something here to seethat even now with sober heartsyoure the closest thing to me.

Lyricist- Phil Ochs

Artist- Phil Ochs

Album- The Broadside Tapes 1

39 0 0

+10 pts

5 Star Rating 1 Rating

I've seen rivers red with blood I've seen valleys filled with mud I've seen stormy seas that pound upon the shore I've seen mountains strewn with bones I've seen people without homes And it's all with the passing of my life I've seen highways headin' down I've seen green grass turn to brown I've se ...

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Posted on 27 Mar 2025, this text provides information on The Broadside Tapes 1 related to Phil Ochs. Please note that while accuracy is prioritized, the data presented might not be entirely correct or up-to-date. This information is offered for general knowledge and informational purposes only, and should not be considered as a substitute for professional advice.

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