Take a look around, baby
Tell me what you see
'Cause what you see is what you found
What you found is what you need and
Life is hard
There's a feeling on the Boulevard
Everybody's got to play a final card a way to go do the deed
Throw the punches like Apollo Creed
'Cause there's a bunch of ways to make it bleed I know

Well, the words of the prophets are no longer written on the Subway walls
One of them lost his hair
The other publishes poetry here and there and that is all
But, the things you said to me I cannot forget although I try
To ignore the space beside me where we used to love and you would lie

Chorus:
She gets the feeling
She gets the feeling
Up through the ceiling is the only view
As I was walking out the door she said see
You don't want to go around the world with me

The San Francisco blues it was a piece of news to me
It was a little blue book and a night time nook of Zen philosophy late at night
A man desires a woman white, black, tan, but the fires are flamed by names and traces and the places and the faces but it's all the same in the morning game when