San Francisco

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    San Francisco

     The grass is always green in San Francisco,
    With the pine trees blowing in the wind.
    The grass is always green in San Fransisco,
    That place of sun and happiness.

    The grass is always green in San Francisco.
    My lonely heart just wants to roam
    Back to the green grass of San Francisco,
    Back to the place that I called home.

    I left my heart in San Francisco,
    With fields of green and sun so gold.
    I left my heart in San Francisco-
    That place of fond memories so old.

    I left my heart in San Fransisco.
    I left my loving life of old
    Back with my heart in San Francisco-
    It is too bad you can't go home.

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    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    bleaurose29’s Poems (13)

    Title Comments Submitted
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    Dreams 0 05/20/2009
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    Why the Game? 0 05/20/2009
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    San Francisco 0 05/20/2009
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    Lady Anne 0 05/20/2009
    The Girl *some changes from original version -3 05/20/2009
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