The Party - Phil Ochs

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 lords

Boasting of the murder of the very hands that pour

And the victims learn to giggle, for at least they are not bored

And my shoulders had to shrug

As I crawl beneath the rug

And retune my piano

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» as 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

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 crawl beneath the rug

And retune my piano

The egos shine like lightbulbs, so bright you cannot see them

Blind each other blinder than a sandbox

All the fury of an argument, holding back their yawns

A challenge shakes the chandliers, the selfish swords are drawn

To the loser go the hangups, to the victor go the hangers on

And my shoulders had to shrug

As I crawl beneath the rug

And retune my piano

They travel to the table, the host is served for supper

And they pass each other down for salt and pepper

And the conversation sparkles as their wits are dipped in wine

Dinosaurs on a diet, on each other they will dine

Then they pick their teeth and they squelch a belch saying:

«Darling you tasted divine.»

And my shoulders had to shrug

As I crawl beneath the rug

And retune my piano

The Wallflower is waiting, she hides behind composure

She’d love to dance and prays that no one asks her

Then she steals a glance at lovers while her fingers tease her hair

And she marvels at the confidence of those who hide their fears

Then her eyes are closed as she rides away with a foreign legionaire

And my shoulders had to shrug

As I crawl beneath the rug

And retune my piano

Romeo is reeling, counting notches on his thighbone

Searching for one hundred and eleven

And he’s charming as a cherub as he leads you to his web

Seducing queens and gypsy girls in the boudoir of his head

Then he wraps himself with a tablecloth and pretends he is a bed

And my shoulders had to shrug

As I crawl beneath the rug

And retune my piano

The party must be over, even the Losers are leaving

But just one doubt is nagging at my caustic mind:

So I snuck up close behind me and I gave myself a kiss

And I led myself to the mirror to expose what I had missed

There I saw a laughing maniac who was writing songs like this

And my shoulders had to shrug

As I crawl beneath the rug

And retune my piano