In an interview in 1967, Phil Ochs is introduced in a peculiar way. The hostess of 'Come, read to me a poem' summarizes Ochs by saying: "Much of the poetry written today, is the poetry written as music ... much of that music has beautiful words to it too". And isn't that the case with this particular 'poem'.
Phil Ochs was more than just a musician, he was a 68'er.
This is not recognized by Anglo-Saxons as often as by the French, but the movement of 1968 was perhaps the most significant one on continental Europe since WWII. Not only did it inspire most of our contemporary philosophy; it primarily reinvigorated the understanding of different forms of protest. Unfortunately, it also showed the bleakness of the world view soon after.
Here are the chords, slightly adapted from what I have found online. I am still looking for good transcript of tabs....
Phil Ochs - Changes
[F]Sit by my [G7]side, come as [C]close as the [Am]air, [F]sharing a [G7]memory of [C]grey,[F]Wander in my [G7]words, [Em]dream about the [Am]pictures that I [F]play [G7]of [C]changes.
[F]Green leaves of [G7]summer turn [C]red in the [Am]fall, [F]to brown and to [G7]yellow they [C]fade.
[F]And then they have to [G7]die, [Em]trapped within the [Am]circle time pa[F]rade [G7]of [C]changes.
[F]Scenes of my [G7]young years were [C]warm in my [Am]mind, [F]visions of [G7]shadows that [C]shine,
'til [F]one day I re[G7]turned and [Em]found they were the [Am]victims of the [F]vines [G7]of [C]changes.
[F]The world's spinning [G7]madly and [C]drifts in the [Am]dark, [F]swings through a [G7]hollow of [C]haze,
[F]A race around the [G7]stars, a [Em]journey through the [Am]universe abl[F]aze [G7]with [C]changes.
[F - G7 - C - Am - F - G7 - C - F - G7 - Em - Am - F - G7 - C]
[F]Moments of [G7]magic will [C]glow in the [Am]night, all [F]fears of the [G7]forest are [C]gone.
[F]But when the morning [G7]breaks, they're [Em]swept away by [Am]golden drops of [F]dawn [G7]of [C]changes.
[F]Passions will [G7]part to a [C]strange melo[Am]dy, as [F]fires will [G7]sometimes burn [C]cold.
Like [F]peddles in the [G7]wind, we are [Em]puppets to the [Am]silver strings of [F]souls [G7]of [C]changes.
[F]Your tears will be [G7]trembling now [C]we're somewhere [Am]else, [F]one last cup of [G7]wine we will [C]pour.
And I'll [F]kiss you one more [G7]time and leave [Em]you on the [Am]rolling river [F]shores [G7]of [C]changes.
[F]So sit by my [G7]side, come as [C]close as the [Am]air, [F]sharing a [G7]memory of [C]grey,
[F]Wander in my [G7]words, [Em]dream about the [Am]pictures that I [F]play [G7]of [C]changes.
No comments:
Post a Comment