coverlyrics

    TIME RAG
    (Words and Music by Joan Baez)

    Ripping along towards middle age
    And my music career kind of missed a page
    Record sales began to drop
    The management all began to hop
    Not worry, they said, you'll see
    What you need is some fresh publicity
    Just give us a nod and we'll all leap
    Towards putting you back at the top of the heap
    I said, Fine, I'll give it a whack
    I hung up the phone and I turned my back
    Began daydreaming I was somebody else
    When the phone jumped over from the wall to the shelf
    We just had a break, this is really fine
    We can make the January issue of TIME
    If you'll give us Monday, a week from today
    From two to four, now what do you say?

    I said, TIME, TIME mag, mag
    You got me on the rag, rag
    Take your insults about the queen
    And shove them up your royal Timese machine

    But I scribbled it down on the wall calendar
    And wondered about my interviewer
    Maybe he'd be just a real nice guy
    Bright and sympathetic with a roving eye
    We'd forget all about the assignment due
    Formalities, photos, and the interview
    We'd hop on into his big rent-a-car
    Go for a lovely drive, not far....maybe France
    As the big day approached it slipped my mind
    Till my secretary showed up at the house to remind
    Me to switch into gear for the big coup de gras
    The meeting with the man from the media
    I swept the driveway and polished the phone
    Put on a Kenzo knit in two-tone
    Fluffed the pillows in the burgundy chair
    Made up my eyes and brushed my hair...all in that order
    When he called to say he was three hours late
    My cheerful facade began to disintegrate
    The photographer'd be even later still
    She was hopelessly lost in the nearby hills
    He arrived not exactly the man of my dreams
    Not bad for a rep from the Timese machine
    Asked me a wandering question or three
    And I thought he was actually listening to me

    And I said, TIME, TIME mag, mag
    You got me on the rag, rag
    Take your insults about the queen
    And shove them up your royal Timese machine

    Curious about his interest
    I babbled my way through the worldwide list
    Ireland, Chile and the African states
    Poetry, politics and how they relate
    Motherhood, music and Moog synthesizers
    Political prisoners and Commie sympathizers
    Hetero, homo and bisexuality
    Where they all stand in the nineteen-seventies
    Then suddenly it stopped and he started to lobby
    Said, Tell me some inside stuff about Bobby
    Bobby who? I smiled and said
    And the TIME man's face was laced with red
    I know you guys used to know each other
    I know you refer to him as being your brother
    And I know that you know where he's coming from
    I said, You know alot for being so Goddamned dumb

    And I said, TIME, TIME mag, mag
    You got me on the rag, rag
    Take your insults about the queen
    And shove them up your royal Timese machine

    Well I never gave him quite what he came for
    The inside story and it's really a shame
    For I never made the January issue of TIME
    And just before I run out of words that rhyme
    I really should tell you that deep in my heart
    I don't give a damn where I stand on the charts
    Not as long as the sun sinks into the west
    And that's going to be a pretty serious test.....of time

    © 1977, 1978 Gabriel Earl Music (ASCAP)


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