1950's real estate poster
san francisco why won't you leave me alone
I know it's you who keeps on calling me and then hanging up the phone
san francisco you are the tattoo on my eyes
I can't believe a single silky word of your elaborate lies
your patron saint talked to the birds
he was a crazy homeless hippie without a dime
I tried to leave; I tried to leave a hundred times
but when I feel your sweaty hand against my spine
when I taste your whiskey lips so close to mine
I have to dance
san francisco you got me right under your thumb
I been standing with a handful of change but that sweet streetcar never comes
san francisco they just can't keep us apart
but you left a bruise on my ambition
just down the hill from where I left my heart
with your tall ceilings and your small town sex
your salty tongue straightening my curls
styrafoam cup corner strewn with clove cigarettes
but when I feel your sweaty hand against my spine
when I taste your whiskey lips so close to mine
I have to .... I have to dance
san francisco
(I left my youth ... in san francisco)
san francisco is my incestuous past
too few players to fill all the roles so some parts are double cast
san francisco same names stay on your marquee
why go to LA to sell your soul when you can give it away for free
your patron saint didnt care for girls
he found god in an ad back page of the Bay Times
the only thing colder than your summer is my landlord's smile
but when I feel your sweaty hand against my spine
when I taste your whiskey lips so close to mine
when I drink down the amnesia of your wine
I have to.. I have to...
damn
I have to dance
san francisco