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

To swallow some more pride