Dry air floats off these hills
Gloomy weather, sun paradise
The Bay Area tide refreshes all
Windy streets and solemn nights.

When grey clouds gather above
Tree leaves fall on the road
Twists turns to meet the floor
And the wind takes them out.

Lines of streetlights glow
Their glow bounces off the tarmac
Mists draw strange caricatures
The darkness consuming those.