The Confession

By Phil Ochs

Bm                              A
There's nothing as cold as the freeze in your soul
         G           A          Bm
  at the moment when you are arrested.
          Bm                    A
There's nothing as real as the iron and steel
           G        A          Bm
  on the handcuffs when you protested.
    D                             F#
You race through the night in the prison of fright
         Bm                         A
  as you head for the quicksand of questions.
     Bm                   A
And children unborn will see you in scorn
      G       A         Bm
  if ever you make a confession.

And the click of a lock is a shiver of shock
  as you wonder what are their objectives.
Upon your guard for the voices are hard
  that belong to the cops and detectives.
And it's hard to believe as they roll up their sleeves
  that you're in for more than a session.
And it couldn't be true and it's not really you
  that they want to make a confession.

You cannot conceal the confussion you feel
  as they steadily work to out-guess you.
And some will pretend they are really your friend
  who rally around to your rescue.
With frightening force your mind is divorced
  to give them the guilty impression.
Every word that you hear is a weapon of fear
  to win the war of confessions.

The lights shoot a glare like bullets they stare
  and burn out the base of conviction.
And you squint and you blink and you try not to think
  of the cobwebs of contridictions.
And your clothes will be wet with the rivers of sweat
  that tells the tale of attention.
And once in awhile the clock has to smile
  as it counts the time of confession.

The questions will rain and pour on your brain
  with the proper speed they are driven.
The circles they pace and the sneer on their face
  tells you no quarter is given.
You can salvage your mind when the paper is signed
  then the crime is solved by oppression.
But win, lose, or draw, it's the rule of the law
  to always work for confession.

And the balance of scales seems distant and pale
  in the shadowy days of the trial.
And sometimes they die; with their name on a lie
  when it's all too late for denial.
When agreement is full the switch must be pulled
  and the chair leaves no hope for correction.
But the chances are large he was guilty as charged
  After all, he made a confession.

Notes:

Transcribed by Thomas R. Hitchcock. Chords supplied by John Dachik