Death (or S.F.?)

You're guaranteed to have a real good time
 If you go to San Francisco where the weather's fine
 Something rare happens in the air
 I was walking through the park
 Getting stoned with local losers
 Dreaming of my girl
 But knowing that I'd lose her
 My mind turned to dreaming of the world
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 Making love I thought I felt the stars
 The atoms of my mind drifting apart
 That's somethin' I didn't know how to do
 That's somethin' I learned to do with you
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 Who knows, maybe death will be your friend
 Who knows, what's in that letter he sends
 And if you've never been to San Francisco
 How do you know it won't be
 Just like that, when you
 Peer over the edge
 Into the swirling blackness
 To find yourself standing at the shore