Death (or S.F.?)

You're guaranteed to have a real good time
If you go to San Francisco where the weather's fine
Something rare happens in the air
I was walking through the park
Getting stoned with local losers
Dreaming of my girl, but knowing that I'd lose her
My mind turned to dreaming of the world

Making love, I thought I felt the stars
The atoms of my mind drifting apart
That's something I didn't know how to do
That's somethin' I learned to do with you

Who knows, maybe death will be your friend
Who knows, what's in that letter he sends
And if you've never been to San Francisco
How do you know it won't be
Just like that, when you
Peer over the edge
Into the swirling blackness
To find yourself standing at the shore