I flew to California thinking I'd found home But I was running away from it Thirty-thousand feet and seven-thousand miles I've learned the hard way it doesn't change a thing Didn't know that ghosts they follow They live in places inside that's hollow They'll fill you up and say What does it look like from halfway down? Would a breath feel easier if it stopped making sounds? Wouldn't it be great to have to never ask why? Cause right now San Francisco seems like the perfect place to die I walked for hours from Post down to the bay Maybe the sky might clear my mind, right? Among the fleet of lovers and dreamers of ballet I thought I'd find hope, but no Didn't know that ghosts they follow They live in every moment borrowed They'll take the time to say What does it look like from halfway down? Would a breath feel easier if it stopped making sounds? Wouldn't it be great to have to never ask why? Cause right now San Francisco seems like the perfect place to die I'm on the edge of this I'm on the precipice of knowing what it'd feel like Is it as painless and as fast as what they say? I flew to California thinking I'd found home But I was running away from it