Desperate Times

Last night I dreamt of you, Abbie Hoffman peddling your books I gave five bucks to you, the other kids just gave you dirty looks I said, "I'm sorry it didn't work out quite the way you planned" You said, "That's silly, boy, the revolution is at hand" And if you got a ten spot brother, I got a dime These are desperate, desperate times Last night I dreamt of you, Pepe Lopez strung out on a stage It don't even look like you, smiling like sawed-off twenty gauge I still remember the Telecaster down around your knees It's late November and I think I smell tequila on the breeze And if you got the Cuervo, honey, I got the lime These are desperate, desperate times And if you got the shotgun, honey, I got the crime These are desperate, desperate times