Gregory Alan Isakov San Francisco
the mist fills, quiet room. san francisco
what the hell was all that 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 shepard songs, everytime 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 st. and how you made the weather come.
