I want you to be the last thing I see
before I close my eyes tonight.
You were sitting out one day
in front of that North Beach café,
and no I don’t recall the name
but the way your hair teased
in that San Francisco breeze.
It made me sit down next to you,
and we talked for a while.
I made you laugh,
and you made me laugh.
And when I got home you were
the last thing on my mind
before I closed my eyes
closed my eyes that night.
We met by the bay,
we watched the ferries
crashing through the waves,
felt the spray upon our face.
You say you love the beach,
the sand beneath your feet.
I say the mountains are mine,
the trees and the leaves.
You say it seems to me
you moved to the wrong damn city,
so I chased you down the dock,
you scare the pigeons and the tourists
until I catch you.
And that’s when I start to think
that I want you to be the last thing I see
before I close my eyes, close my eyes tonight.
You take me to the Mission
and we forget about our worries
as we lay in the grass and the sun.
We got lost among the lakes
and the birds in the park.
We listen to the drummers as they fill the April air.
I thought we’d watch the sunset in the sunset,
we took a walk in the fog instead!
And as I walk you home, I turn to you and say
that I want you to the be the last thing I see
before I close my eyes tonight.
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