The loveliness of Paris, seems somehow sadly gay. The glory that was Rome, is of another day. I've been terribly alone, and forgotten in Manhattan, I'm going home to my City by the Bay. I left my heart in San Francisco, High on a Hill, it calls to me, To be where little cable cars, climb halfway to the stars, The morning fog may chill the air, I don't care, My love waits there...in San Francisco, Above a blue and windy sea; When I come home to you, San Francisco, Your Golden Sun will shine for me.
The loveliness of Paris, seems somehow sadly gay. The glory that was Rome, is of another day. I've been terribly alone, and forgotten in Manhattan, I'm going home to my City by the Bay.
I left my heart in San Francisco, High on a Hill, it calls to me, To be where little cable cars, climb halfway to the stars, The morning fog may chill the air, I don't care,
My love waits there...in San Francisco, Above a blue and windy sea; When I come home to you, San Francisco, Your Golden Sun will shine for me.
