Go on and tell them all you know
about me:
that I was sad, and loose, and wild,
but never free.

Because the past, it grabs you by the throat
and it holds you down and it takes you hope,
and it leaves you.
Except it never leaves you.

So I'm moving to San Francisco,
I'm gonna come up from out of the night.
I'm moving to San Francisco,
and in the bottled glass apartment haze
I will see the light.

I was lost
before I got found.
And when they found me I was drunk,
and snapped in half,
and lying on the ground.
I was through,
through and through,
nothing new,
nothing new.

I was looking for a chord to strike,
but the notes they wouldn't come out right.
They were all wrong.

So I'm moving to San Francisco,
I've got to come up from out of the night.
I'm moving to San Francisco,
and through the water reflections on the wall,
I will see the light.

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