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 & sleep
On Owsley's floor

Walked past the wig store
Danced at the Fillmore
I'm completely stoned
I'm hippy & I'm trippy
I'm a gypsy on my own
I'll stay a week & get the crabs &
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
(Hey, dude!)
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
(Hey, dude!)
Psychedelic dungeons
Popping up on every street
GO TO SAN FRANCISCO . .

(Oh, jump, Johnny!)

Gotcha . .
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
You know I'll 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
(Freeze, hippy!)
I will sleep . . . (yes?)
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 & roll band
Because the groups all live together
(HEEEERE'S JOHNNY!)
Ha ha ha ha, I will stay, I will join rock & roll
And I'll be the road manager
And I'll stay there with them
And I will get the crabs
But I won't care
Because . .