San Franciscan Nights - Eric Burdon

Strobe light beam, creates dreams

Walls move, minds do too

On a warm San Franciscan night

Old child, young child

Feel all right

On a warm San Franciscan night

Angels sing, leather wings

Jeans of blue, Harley Davidsons too

On a warm San Franciscan night

Old angel, young angel

Feel all right

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

Cops face is filled with hate

Heavens above

He’s on a street called «Love»

When will they ever learn?

Old cop, young cop

Feel all right

On a warm San Franciscan night

The children are cool

They don’t raise fools

It’s an American dream

Includes Indians too