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bardiphouka the earth turned promisewise
When I was not the Emperor of San Francisco
Still there was a strip of unbarren ground
run into a tumble of scent and sight
in homage of domestic untranquility
When I was not the Emperor of San Francisco
There was a stand of peppers shined red
against the brick and lilies that grew
in tall discord of any plans
I was not and am not and most likely
shall never be the Emperor of San Francisco.
Still there is a strip of unbarren ground
soaking the spring rain and dreams
Of a profusion of bright tastes and sights
blending in desires of another spring.
When I was not the Emperor of San Francisco
Still there was a strip of unbarren ground
run into a tumble of scent and sight
in homage of domestic untranquility
When I was not the Emperor of San Francisco
There was a stand of peppers shined red
against the brick and lilies that grew
in tall discord of any plans
I was not and am not and most likely
shall never be the Emperor of San Francisco.
Still there is a strip of unbarren ground
soaking the spring rain and dreams
Of a profusion of bright tastes and sights
blending in desires of another spring.
