Strobe lights beam create dreams
walls move minds to do
on a warm San Franciscan night
old child young child feel alright
on a warm San Franciscan night
Angels sing leather wings
jeans of blue Harley Davidsons too
on a warm San Franciscan night
old angels young angels feel alright
on a warm San Franciscan night
I wasn't born there perhaps I'll die there
there's no place left to go, San Francisco.
Cop's face is filled with hate
heavens above he's on a street called love
when will they ever learn?
old cop young cop feel alright
on a warm San Franciscan night
the children are cool
they don't raise fools
it's an American dream
includes Indians too