San Fransisco B.C. Silver Jews

Old San Francisco, San Francisco B.C
I lived with my true love and she lived with me
"Romance is the douche of the bourgeoisie"
Was the very first thing she imparted to me
We had sarcastic hair, we used lewd pseudonyms
We got a lot of stares on the street back then

Since her dad, a local barber, had been beaten to death
She had become a vocal martyr in the vegan press
The cops had failed, they couldn't catch a bus
They were looking for a male with a bad hair cut
Enter tumbleweed, exit love
And our affaire d'amour was set on self-destruct

She said, "You don't make enough to provide for me"
I said, "What about the stuff that we quote 'believe'?"
She said, "I left that on the sands of history
I've found a new man who takes care of me
He dresses for success and emergency
And he moves a lot of concrete on the QVC"

Middle-aged and deadly, like a cobra in the shade
Sat in the midst of the smoke that he made
His name was Mr. Games and he owned the place
It was a lonely bar and grill in the Lower Haight
He had a jeweler's hands and a blurry face
He knew I needed a chance so he gave me a break