San Francisco

Leaving again… and she don’t know why
Packs up her things, when her road gets just a little too straight
Strips her room and she says goodbye
To the ones that stick around and sit and laugh and cry and talk about the life
that knows her
Never a fool but she feels like one
And she holds… my hand
She’s runnning to San Francisco
Leaving the walls behind
Arms wrapped around her shoulders
Tumbling through tired
She’s running to the city
Getting out of this old place
Looking though the rusted window
Fall into space
The only people she’ll know are the ones she’ll meet tomorrow
The closest friends are sitting stranded at the little run-in diner
Where she used to work
But they wonder if their tears are really about her or if they’re thinking
about themselves
And they catch her thoughts on right up high
And the minutes… roll by
Running to… a tall glass cut building
Running to… a bed nice and warm
Running to… a black picket fence now
Running to… A life ripped and torn
Running to… A cramped old apartment
Running to a life not like it seems…
A couple months have passed and she was sitting on the front step
A local man came by and told her bout some problems that he’s got
He’s lost his job and his rent ran dry
She said, hey man just get up and change some things about the way that you are
And he sits on right down next to her
And she holds… his hand