v v v v v v v v
v v v v v v v v
/ / / / / / / /
Strobe light's beam creates dreams
Walls move minds do too
On a warm San Franciscan night
Old child, young child, feel all right
On a warm San Franciscan night
Angels sing, leather wings
I wasn't born there
Perhaps I'll die there
There's noplace left to go
San Francisco...
v v v v
v v v v
v v v v
v v v v
/ / / / / / / /
/ / / / / / / /
/ / / / / / / /
Cop's face is filled with haight
