Vicious circle's got me down Days turn into weeks of hanging out Got to shake these soup kitchen blues Growing tired of barley cabbage stew And there being nothing Nothing new to do Dumb and hungry, we make our way For free refueling Like an alarm clock, our minds know the times We plan our lives around the lines Twelve p.m. At the soup kitchen Talking politics with the bag men Forced into their conversations Pessimistic contemplations They tell me of their heart conditions Share with me their D.T. Visions Damn me with that bad outlook Or save me with that "good book" Vicious circle's got me down Days turn into weeks of hanging out Got to shake these Haight-Ashbury blues Growing tired of the Kezar Stadium cruise And there being nothing Nothing new to do Just make the midday pilgrimage We travel far and wide Going to the soup kitchen
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