The Bay is 13 shades of brown
Looking closer I can detect pools of oil reflecting colors
Looking closer again, I get dizzy

The people in SF are multicolored
And I often feel whiter than I am
It confuses me

I walk around the dirty streets laced with homeless
and I feel clean
I feel clean

The men in the Castro wear lipstick and dresses
It causes me to question my wardrobe

Stealing is a way of life here
Steal time
Steal parking spaces
Steal glances
And I find myself a thief

Nothing is neat in San Francisco
Rules only apply to neighborhood dress codes
In the Haight they wear paisley and stripes
Downtown they wear suits with outdated ties
In the Marina they have blonde hair
In the Castro they like tight pants
I wear yoga clothes. I fit in everywhere

If someone asks me how I am
I am required to be happy
In SF, obligatory smiling is like good credit
You can't buy much without it