Where the winds dance so fierce and passerby enchant,
Where the dreams lie low, steered, beneath the dim lit street lamps,
I stand wide-eyed and smiling, though frozen cold and standing alone.
This is a city, though never singing, so wise so old, for San Francisco.
Where sad-eyed dogs they trot, and children remain away from rolling rain,
Where lovers stare into eachother’s eyes, beneath some Italian melodic plain,
I reach inside and into the fire, and I offer up a rose,
They stand with grace and never tire, they break me in their row.
We’ve but a night, you and I, to howl to the moon.
The fog will fade and the wind shall ride when daylight comes so soon.
So if you feel the sun, if you hear its echoing chime,
Look to me and take my hand, in our eyes we’ll live a lifetime.
Where the sun strides into the sky, where trains resume an unending climb,
Though rain shall always fall somewhere, we had a night, you and I.
Somewhere it lies, in every night sky, while waiting love shall come and go,
It shines on high, for you and for I, for this city, San Francisco.
Ren Michael 