We spent JulyIn a Berkeley basementHalf-read booksAnd bold declarationsThere was so muchI didn't believe inAnd thenThere was youYou made me braveYou made me stupidGave me the skinThat I couldn't move inWe're gonna leave themWhere they standWe'll leave themWhere they loveNo one caresAbout the storiesThey're not inWe'll fadeOut to whispersIt's the last days of summerIn San FranciscoThe kitchen's coldAnd the tea kettle whistlesThe J-church rollsAnd rattles our windowsThere's no nostalgia hereIt's just nowBaby, nowI was a fireThat you startedFor once I knewEverything that I wantedWe're gonna leave themWhere they standWe'll leave themWhere they loveNo one caresAbout the storiesThey're not inWe'll fade out to whispersIt's the last days of summerIn San FranciscoIt's the last days of summerIn San FranciscoWe'll be right back.We'll be right back.We'll be right back.