Strobe Lights Beans
Create Dreams
Wiles Move
Minds Do Too
On a warm San Francisco night
Old child, young child
Feeling alright
On a warm San Francisco night
Angels sing
They got leather wings
Dreams are blue
Holidays are true
On a warm San Francisco night
Old angel, young angel
Feeling alright
On a warm San Francisco night
I was not born there
Perhaps I died there
Yeah, I was not born there
There is no place left to go
Not San Francisco
Not San Francisco




Cop's face is filled with hate
Heaven's above
He's on the street calling out
When will they ever learn?
Old cop, young cop
Feeling alright
On a warm San Francisco night

It's an American dream.
It includes Indians, too.
And me.
And you.
And everybody.
Everybody out there.
Down in San Francisco.
You gotta go to San Francisco.
You gotta go to San Francisco.
You gotta sing, don't you?
You gotta go to San Francisco.
Everybody out there.
You gotta go to San Francisco.