Texty: Gregory Alan Isakov. San Francisco.

the mist fills,
quiet room.
san francisco

what the hell was all
the talkin? round,
where is it now, sunny california?
I wake with you, I feel your coat, sleep late afternoons
and I hitched along, but I turned wrong,
how you moved me along, with your shepherd songs,
every time you opened up to sing?

the still sun, never moves, across the sky?
funny thing, time.
she made you mine?
and she?ll rob you blind.

lay down in your new town
walk the ground.
glass and houses fill the fields.

now the moon sees everything
in this sanitarium
can I get through, like the moon gets through,
across the sea
treacherous.
and now you?ve gone, after all we?ve known,
and after all that I?ve been told?
california?s cold

lay down in your new town
walk the ground
how you made me weep on sansom street
and how you made the weather come.