SWEET SURVIVOR
Peter Yarrow -Barry Mann -Cynthia Weil- Silver Dawn - ASCAP

You have asked me why the days fly by so quickly
And why each one feels no different from the last
And you say that you are fearful for the future
And you have grown suspicious of the past
And you wonder if the dreams we shared together
Have abandoned us or we abandoned them
And you cast about and try to find new meaning
So that you can feel that closeness once again.

Carry on my sweet survivor, carry on my lonely friend
Don't give up on the dream, and don't you let it end.
Carry on my sweet survivor,
Though you know that something's gone
For everything that matters carry on.

You remember when you felt each person mattered
When we all had to care or all was lost
But now you see believers turn to cynics
And you wonder was the struggle worth the cost
Then you see someone too young to know the difference
And a veil of isolation in their eyes
And inside you know you've got to leave them something
Or the hope for something better slowly dies.

Carry on my sweet survivor, carry on my lonely friend
Don't give up on the dream, and don't you let it end.
Carry on my sweet survivor, you've carried it so long
So it may come again, carry on
Carry on, carry on.

DON'T STOP TO REST
(Song for Phil Ochs)
Steve Romanoff

Relax, relax in photographs of places where you've been,
Where nothing new can worry you, you've earned a rest, my friend,
The riot tears and rebel years have vanished with the din,
Of young bureaucrats and slapping backs and prizes they can win,

You've seen them all at city hall, you've seen them in the street,
You've seen them masquerading where the better people meet,
Convinced at last those days are past when they should give a damn
About the anguish in the world, about the future in their hands.

        You've heard the promise of the evil men
        Don't stop to rest or we'll come back again,
        If you remember then you ought to know,
        Don't stop to rest 'cause we've got far to go.

Come all you young-eyed citizens, a story I will tell,
Of how a Great Society was going all to hell,
But children who resembled you were brought up on a war,
Had had their fill of overkill and said they'd fight no more,

It cost them miles of marching and it cost them years of pain,
Before their fathers realized their kids were not insane,
But now we're all executives too busy to recall
The days of righting what was wrong, the words of writing on the wall.

        Chorus

Now don't misunderstand me 'cause I mean just what I say,
Old pledges made in passion still should mean something today,
You've done your bit, don't go and sit behind your groaning board,
And let the scrivener set down, you've given all you could afford.

        Chorus