On the streets of San Francisco,
I went for a walk with an old friend of mine.

The world was strange;
the sun set. I was ten years old.
My face fell into the dirt.

The trees were different, dancing birth
into death-pregnant architecture,
and a bizarre, withering old fellow
(and his chihuahua)
screamed, in my direction:

"MY NAME IS RUPERT MURDOCH! GET OFF MY FUCKING LAWN!"

I said, "all the emperors of infancy sat
and stared at everything, or something
becoming nothing; a subway masturbator in the corner
fucked off. A man walked into a train station,
and just
started
FLATLINING!"

I said, "it is what it is when it is it,
even when it isn't,"
slipped, and

flew,
right into you.


Lyrics submitted by marzipanflows

West Coast song meanings
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