The Party (Live) Phil Ochs

[Intro]
I'd like to do a song 'bout uh
Festivals and all the things that go on
It's, uh, called "The Party"

[Verse 1]
The fire-breathing rebels arrive at the party early
Their khaki coats are hung in the closet near the fur
Asking handouts from the ladies, while they criticize the lord
Boasting of the murder of the very hands that pour
And the victims learn to giggle
But at least they are not bored
And my shoulders had to shrug as I crawled beneath the rug
And retuned my piano

[Verse 2]
The hostess is enormous, she fills the room with perfume
She meets the guests and smothers them with greetings
And she asks "How are you" and she offers them a drink
The countess of the social grace who never seems to blink
And she promises to talk to you
If you promise not to think
And my shoulders had to shrug as I crawled beneath the rug
And retuned my piano

[Verse 3]
The beauty of the hour is blazing in the present
She surrounds herself with those who would surrender
Floating in her flattery she's a trophy prize caressed
Protected by a pretty face, sometimes cursed, sometimes blessed
And she's staring down their desires
While they're staring down her dress
And my shoulders had to shrug as I crawled beneath the rug
And retuned my piano