San Franciscan Nights
Eric Burdon
Strobe lights beam, create dreams
Walls move, minds do to
On a warm San Francisco night
Old child, young child feel alright
On a warm San Francisco Night
Angels sing, leather wings
Jeans of blue, Harley Davidsons too
On a warm San Francisco night
Old angels, young angels feel alright
On a warm San Francisco night
I Wasn't born there, perhaps I'll die there
There's no place left to go
San Francisco
Cop's face is filled with hate
Heavens above, he's on a street called love
When will they ever learn?
Old cop, young cop feel alright
On a warm San Francisco night
The children are cool
They don't raise fools
It's an American dream
Includes indians too