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