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I’m not proud, but I ‘aint ashamed.
I am guilty as charged, but I cant be blamed.
wouldn’t you be just like me if you’d seen the dark times I have seen?
so much company. still so lonely.
San Francisco nights are cold.
we are all growing old, we are all growing old.
and I don’t see an end to this road.
will I ever get back home? don’t think Ill make it home.
Im awake, but I shouldn’t be.
its been ages since a solid goodnights sleep.
see I started counting bottles instead of sheep
and when I finally go down, its way too deep.
and I don’t even dream.
sure, I don’t know why I wake up and scream.
San Francisco nights are cold.
we are all growing old, we are all growing old.
and I don’t see an end to this road.
will I ever get back home? I don’t think I’ll make it home.
theres too much love I think that must be hate.
and theres no healthy to decipher it.
and I know that you think Im so kind of gem.
but I think Im cut from the cloth of evil men.
so you best get yourself away while you still love me,
cause you’ll hate me if you stay.
San Francisco nights are cold.
we are all growing old, we are all growing old.
I don’t see an end to this road.
will I ever get back home? don’t think I’ll make it home.
San Francisco nights are cold.
we are all growing old, we are all growing old.
and I don’t see an end to this road.
will I ever get back home? don’t think Ill make it home. no.

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