What's there to live for?
Who needs the Peace Corps?
Think I'll just drop out
I'll go to 'Frisco, buy a wig, and sleep on Owsley's floor

Walked past the wig store
Danced at the Fillmore
I'm completely stoned
I'm hippy and I'm trippy, I'm a gypsy on my own
I'll stay a week and get the crabs, and take a bus back home
I'm really just a phony, but forgive me, 'cause I'm stoned

Every town must have a place where phony hippies meet
Psychedelic dungeons popping-up on every street
Go to San Francisco!

How I love ya, how I love ya
How I love ya, how I love ya, 'Frisco
How I love ya, how I love ya
How I love ya, how I love ya (oh, my hair is getting good in the back)

Every town must have a place where phony hippies meet
Psychedelic dungeons popping-up on every street
Go to San Francisco!

First, I'll buy some beads
And then, perhaps, a leather band to go around my head, some feathers and bells
And a book of Indian lore
I will ask the Chamber Of Commerce how to get to Haight Street
And smoke an awful lot of dope
I will wander around barefoot
I will have a psychedelic gleam in my eye at all times
I will love everyone
I will love the police as they kick the shit out of me on the street
I will sleep—
I will—, I will go to a house
That's, that's what I will do
I will go to a house, where there's a rock 'n roll band
'Cause the groups all live together
And I will join a rock 'n roll band
I will be their road manager
And I will stay there with them and I will get the crabs but I won't care