Days Of Decision - Phil Ochs

[ConsAreLiars]

Some (here, there, and everywhere) seem locked into the primary talking points, elevating infighting into a lifestyle choice. Others get caught up in the trivia that consumes these ego-driven petty-minded dividers. There's a certain safety in focusing on such small things, since they obscure the reality of the dangers we face and the power of the enemy who will kill us all. But beware those who would mislead, divert and divide. Phil Ochs wrote this in a different era and context - a reminder of the stakes in what is not a game.

Days Of Decision
By Phil Ochs

Oh, the shadows of doubt are in many a mind,
Lookin' for an answer they're never gonna find,
But they'd better decide 'cause they're runnin' out of time,
For these are the days of decision.

Oh, the games of stalling you cannot afford,
Dark is the danger that's knocking on the door,
And the far-reaching rockets say you can't wait anymore,
For these are the days of decision.

In the face of the people who know they're gonna win,
There's a strength that's greater than the power of the wind,
And you can't stand around when the ice is growing thin,
For these are the days of decision.

I've seen your heads hiding 'neath the blankets of fear,
When the paths they are plain and the choices are clear,
But with each passing day, boys, the cost is more dear
For these are the days of decision.

There's many a cross that burns in the night,
And the fingers of the fire are pointing as they bite,
Oh you can't let the smoke keep on blinding all your sight,
For these are the days of decision.

Now the mobs of anger are roamin' the street,
From the rooftops they are aimin' at the police on the beat,
And in city after city you know they will repeat,
For these are the days of decision.

There's been warnin's of fire, warnin's of flood,
Now there's the warnin' of the bullet and the blood,
From the three bodies buried in the Mississippi mud,
Sayin' these are the days of decision.

There's a change in the wind, and a split in the road,
You can do what's right or you can do what you are told,
And the prize of the victory will belong to the bold,
Yes, these are the days of decision.

From http://web.cecs.pdx.edu/~trent/ochs/lyrics/days-of-decision.html
Text

[Mojambo]

1. With the financial chaos and the wealth class pulling their shit, I'm feelin "Ringing of Revolution"

In a building of gold, with riches untold,
lived the families on which the country was founded.
And the merchants of style, with their red velvet smiles,
were there, for they also were hounded.
And the soft middle class crowded in to the last,
for the building was fully surrounded.
And the noise outside was the ringing of revolution.

Sadly they stared and sank in their chairs
and searched for a comforting notion.
And the rich silver walls looked ready to fall
As they shook in doubtful devotion.
The ice cubes would clink as they freshened their drinks,
wet their minds in bitter emotion.
And they talked about the ringing of revolution.

We were hardly aware of the hardships they beared,
for our time was taken with treasure.
Oh, life was a game, and work was a shame,
And pain was prevented by pleasure.
The world, cold and grey, was so far away
In the distance only money could measure.
But their thoughts were broken by the ringing of revolution.

The clouds filled the room in darkening doom
as the crooked smoke rings were rising.
How long will it take, how can we escape
Someone asks, but no one's advising.
And the quivering floor responds to the roar,
In a shake no longer surprising.
As closer and closer comes the ringing of revolution.

Softly they moan, please leave us alone
As back and forth they are pacing.
And they cover their ears and try not to hear
With pillows of silk they're embracing.
And the crackling crowd is laughing out loud,
peeking in at the target they're chasing.
Now trembling inside the ringing of revolution.
With compromise sway we give in half way

When we saw that rebellion was growing.
Now everything's lost as they kneel by the cross
Where the blood of christ is still flowing.
To late for their sorrow they've reached their tomorrow
and reaped the seed they were sowing.
Now harvested by the ringing of revolution.

In tattered tuxedos they faced the new heroes
and crawled about in confusion.
And they sheepishly grinned for their memoroes were dim
of the decades of dark execution.
Hollow hands were raised; they stood there amazed
in the shattering of their illusions.
As the windows were smashed by the ringing of revolution.

Down on our knees we're begging you please,
We're sorry for the way you were driven.
There's no need to taunt just take what you want,
and we'll make amends, if we're living.
But away from the grounds the flames told the town
that only the dead are forgiven.
As they crumbled inside the ringing of revolution.

RIP Phil Ochs.