The Buena Vista Cafe in San Francisco is the home of the best Irish Coffee in the world.
I miss the ocean. I find people shake their heads at me because I eat crabs with a mallet. That doesn't bother as much as the long days of June. All the cities I've seen and the few that I know, weathered and corrupt by the time I saw them. Who calls me and why, and whence I come?
Its fine if the snow never leaves the trees. Around this corner... Stop! What is all this gibberish?
SAY SOMETHING....
Not likely, maybe tomorrow...
If you can hear me, maybe tomorrow.
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