"SFO" genre: Alternative General
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	A song about an airport, sort of. . .
	CD: NA   Label: NA Credits: Sullivan
	Story Behind the Song This song was written around the original drum and bass loop, and came together slowly layer by layer. The song is about one holiday season commuting back and forth from Salt Lake City to San Francisco. A lot of sitting around thinking in airports. Lyrics SFO Sullivan, 1996 It was hard flying home for Christmas After our one perfect night The thrust of the engines pulled me backward Through a thousand strangers' starry nights How cruel you were to let me kiss you When you knew it wasn't right When you knew the third cock would be crowing By morning light The streets of home are dead of memory A place of cold and bright and silence The steeple bell, the nursing home If only I turned you on If only I turned you on Like my Dad did for my Mother If only I turned you on If only I turned you on Then I could tell you . . . Another stinging little memory of a look that passed your face Or that music that seemed just beyond my hearing And I think St. Jude must have vanished, Wouldn't touch this hopeless case When The pulse of love The sound of love The stench of love The beat of love The rage of love The breath of love Is everyplace Now back in San Francisco for New Years I'm a ghost in the lost streets of your town Confetti floats in paper cups of vodka Blurry clocks say 11:59 And across the town, on some ballroom floor Your pretty lips are waiting, as this awful year expires And you feel hot, strange lips (and I'm thinking of you) But they're not mine . . .

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