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Miranda |
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Phil Ochs |
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Do you have a problem, |
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Would you like someone to solve them, |
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Would you like someone to share in your misery? |
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Now, I don't know the answer, but I know a flamenco dancer |
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Who will dance for you if you will dance for me |
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Chorus: |
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Her name's Miranda |
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She's a Rudolph Valentino fan |
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And she doesn't claim to understand |
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She bakes brownies for the boys in the band. |
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Early Sunday morning |
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When the sermon lines are forming |
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And Saturday night is the memories that it gave. |
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She's busy in the pantry, far away from Elmer Gantry |
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Who is busy baking souls that he may save. |
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Everybody's soul but Miranda (Chorus) |
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The dice of death are calling |
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While the truck of time is falling |
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By the thumb stuck out on the highway of the years. |
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The tollgate at the turnpike is ignored by those who hitch-hike |
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And the Howard Johnson food is made of fear |
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But not Miranda (Chorus) |
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The sun burnt skin is peeling |
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On the dotors who are healing |
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And the license plates are laughing on the car. |
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The pain is so exciting |
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And everyone's inviting |
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You to look upon their operation scars. |
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But not miranda (Chorus) |
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The condiments are clashing |
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While commercial planes are crashing |
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And the music of the evening is so sweet |
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Now fully in agreement |
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Oh, their feet have found the cement |
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And they all believe the signs are on the street |
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Her name's Miranda (Chorus) |
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In the bar we're gin and scotching |
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While the FBI is watching |
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They are tape recording every other word |
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The bartender is bleeding |
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Pardon me, I just was leaving |
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as another clever voice repeats absurd |
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But not Miranda (Chorus) |
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(repeat first verse) |
