San Francisco B.C. - Silver Jews

Old San Francisco, San Francisco B.C.

I lived with my true love and she lived with me

«Romance is the douche of the bourgeoisie»

Was the very first thing she imparted to me

We had sarcastic hair, we used lewd pseudonyms

We got a lot of stares on the street back then

Since her dad, a local barber, had been beaten to death

She had become a vocal martyr in the vegan press

The cops had failed, they couldn’t catch a bus

They were looking for a male with a bad hair cut

Enter tumbleweed, exit love and our affaire d’amour

Was set on self-destruct

She said «you don’t make enough to provide for me»

I said «what about the stuff that we «e believe?»

She said «I left that on the sands of history

I’ve found a new man to take care of me

He dresses for success and emergency

And he moves a lot of concrete on the QVC»

Middle-aged and deadly, like a cobra in the shade

Sat in the midst of the smoke that he made

His name was Mr. Games and he owned the place

It was a lonely bar and grill in the Lower Haight

He had a jeweler’s hands and a blurry face

He knew I needed a chance so he gave me a break

«If I hire you now, can you start today?

I got a high-rise job down by the bay

Just a couple of rocks and some firearms

There’s not many locks and just one alarm

My step-son Gene will pick you up and drive

Try to be his friend, he’s got a friendly side»

Doll-house lightning and the next thing I knew

We were back at our point of rendezvous

I was in the possession of burglary tools

Children’s fur coats and diamonds and jewels

Gene’s talking about insignificant shit

Just like crooks in the movies when they do that bit

He said the power of metal will never be harnessed

I thought the wages of metal should be heavily garnished

We were waiting for his dad to meet us there

Gene took off his hat and I noticed his hair

It was neatly trimmed but a patch was bare

I knew it wasn’t the wave, it was human error

Before I knew what I said, I said «killer cut»

I watched him silently putting out a cigarette butt

Then he came at me with some fist cuisine

I had to duck aside and that was bad for Gene

'Cause when he went by me he tripped and fell

Through the glass coffee table at the Wong hotel

Right there and then Mr. Games walked in

With my ex-true love on his gamy limb

So her dad’s killer’s dad was her new beau

And Games had a wife, whatta you know?

She got real real quiet till we chucked the kid

Then she went her way and I went his

Old San Francisco, San Francisco B.C.