| San Francisco Song |
|---|
| You know I cannot stand your love for alcohol |
| You’re such a tall man but you’re looking kind of small |
| I’ll send you movie stills to rid you of your ills |
| Because you’re ill |
| Now you’re finding out I’m hard to please |
| You’d better watch your mouth you’ll bring a girl close to tears |
| I ripped up my lyric book, gave myself the blackest look |
| Black looks |
| You would think by now I wouldn’t miss this place |
| It makes my poor legs weak and my sweet heart start to race |
| To race, yeah to race |
