san francisco, san francisco

Ya no mas, ya basta.

You are no more, Sea-Town

I’m going back home now

Home is something that I’ve mostly had

San Francisco it is you I associate

This thing called home

You are the saint

You are the sustenance

San Francisco

Is it you that’s home?

Or the inhabitants?

Maybe the familiarity?

Even in my own four walls I felt un-homed

Unable to breathe, respirar, like a bag over my head that fogs

I met your son in San Francisco

Are you bound to your robe?

Are you a slave to your robe?

Am I a slave to mine?





My feet hella hurt

Why is it raining so hard

Dam girl

La puta madre

Why did I ever agree to this

I just didn’t want to say no

I definetly wanted approval

To live simply San Francisco

I want to live simply

But self gets in the way

of

you

and

home.