Grant us one more hour, To perform our art And perfect our lives.

Awake

Shake dreams from your hair

My pretty child, my sweet one

Choose the day, choose the sign of your day

The day’s divinity

First thing you see

A vast radiant beach in a cool jeweled moon

Couples naked race down by its quiet side

And we laugh like soft, mad children

Smug in the wooly cotton brains of infancy

The music and voices are all around us

Choose they croon the ancient ones

The time has come again

Choose now, they croon

Beneath the moon

Beside an ancient lake

Enter again the sweet forest

Enter the hot dream

Come with us

Everything is broken up and dances

Indians scattered,

On dawns, highway bleeding

Ghosts crowd the young child,

Fragile eggshell mind

We have assembled inside,

This ancient and insane theater

To propagate our lust for our life,

And flee the swarming wisdom of the streets.

The barns have stormed

The windows kept,

And only one of all the rest

To dance and save us

From the divine mockery of words,

Music inflames temperament.

Ooh great creator of being

Grant us one more hour,

To perform our art

And perfect our lives.

We need great golden copulations,

When true kings murders

Are allowed to roam free,

A thousand musicians arise from the land

Where are the feast we are promised?

One more thing

Thank you oh lord

For the white blind light

Thank you oh lord

For the white blind light

A city rises from the sea

I had a splitting headache

From which the feature is a maid.

  • James Douglas Morrison

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