Good Times

The city's own specific North Pacific fog rolls in,
And wraps the filthy Tenderloin in heaven.
But until the indie disco ends
My quiet stylish Frisco friends--
'll dance like modern hipsters circa 1967.
And they will sweat their loneliness out now;
They're gonna get through this somehow.
Dance until their feet hurt bad;
There are good times to be had.
Have yourself another beer;
They're playing music that you wanna hear.
And there are good times to be had,
Good times to be had.
She puts her pencil down
And draws her eyes up from her drawing
To see if there are ships out in the Bay.
The rusting Palomino tanker that was there this morning
Had hauled its anchor, called, and crawled away.
And she will drown her loneliness out now;
She's gonna get through this somehow--
Drink until her head hurts bad;
There're good times to be had.
Have another whiskey dear,
And write the music that you wanna hear.
'Cause there are good times to be had,
Good times to be had.
There are people in the gutter;
The city lights are pretty
From the windows of the bus on Route 11.
All these shiny memories of dark streets,
But looking back now, nothing beats
A hotel metro bedroom back in 1997.
I will walk this loneliness off now;
I'm gonna get through this somehow--
Walk until my feet hurt bad;
There are good times to be had.
Muddle through another year...
I'll write some music that you'd wanna hear.
'Cause there are good times to be had,
Good times to be had.
Yeah, there are good times,
There are good times to be had.
There are good times,
There are good times to be had.