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San Fransisco
They do not wear flowers in their hair
They’re not allowed to smoke out in the streets
San-Fransisco, I am not prepared
Some gentle people aren’t the ones you meet
To be a one more begging refugee
To watch your ships with nothing left to lose
Is not the fate I’d ever wish for me
San-Fransisco, you’re a word that’s out of use
Like a Clockwork Orange guy, after the lobotomy!
Isn’t worth a single try, but still means a lot to me!
Sabn-Fransisco, you’re the line, from past century’s papers!
Maybe once your six turned nine, for naïve escapers!
It’s out of date to go to San-Fransisco
Let’s wait awhile in our habitual stay
Until we die, as if responding to the missed call
Then our ghosts will count the ships at Frisco bay.
Copyright ©
Gregory Colodub
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