C F Em Phil Ochs checked into the Chelsea Hotel, G C There was blood on his clothes, and they were dirty.
I could see by his face he was not feelin' well,
He'd been to one too many parties.
He walked in the lobby, a picture of doom,
It was plain to see he'd been a-drinkin'.
I had to follow him up to his room,
To find out what he was thinkin'.
F G C "Train, Train, Train!" F C From the outlaw in his brain. G C Now he sings the same refrain.
He walked in his room and he fell to the floor,
Hanging in his hangover.
Now the act from the stage he plays on the street,
Handing out piles of money.
His audience now is the bums that he meets -
Is he a phony or funny?
(Words and music by Phil Ochs, 1975)
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