Lyrics:

Alternate chording
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