"When I left my home and my family
I was no more than a boy, in the company of strangers,
in the quiet of a railway station, running scared,
laying low, seeking out the poor quarters
where the ragged people go, looking for the places
only they would know."
Today in SanFran on the bus
I learned the meaning of Paul's words
when the ragged people climbed aboard.
Yesterday I had walked up Mission and,
crossing 16th, crossing 17th,
seeing the poorer quarters
where the ragged people go--
now I know.
Forty years later, now I know.
I am not one of them. I am
not one of the ragged people.
No, heaven forbid, no no.
My crowd congregates out on the Embarcadero
where the ragged tourists go
looking only for the places we are trained to know.
Meanwhile, up on the hill
and a few miles from here
there's the Haight Ashbury
where my generation was told to go
Life mag told us to go
But how's that working out for ya now?
Here here and now now.
My g-g-generation, so merry
went up on Haight Ashbury
where Ben&Jerry now serve raspberry.
Meanwhile back at the tranches,
over at the downtown bank branches
the makers and shakers program their chances
to do the dowjones nasdaq dances
while down below
the ragged people come and go
looking for michelangelo
or maybe just angelo,
or maybe just so and so
in the places only they would know
in San Francisco.
See Dick go. See Jane go.
Go go go
to San Francisco
and the silicon valley
ee eye ee eye oh.
It's all good don'tcha know
as the people come and go
to San Francisco.