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The Doors - A feast of friends


Wow, I`m sick of doubt
Live in the light of certain south
Cruel bindings.
The servants have the power
Dog-men and their mean women
Pulling poor blankets over
Our sailors

I`m sick of dour faces
Staring at me from the tv tower,

I want roses in my garden bower;
dig?

Royal babies, rubies
Must now replace aborted
Strangers in the mud

These mutants, blood-meal
For the plant that`s plowed.

They are waiting to take us
into The severed garden

Do you know how pale and wanton thrillful
Comes death on a strange hour
Unannounced, unplanned for
Like a scaring over-friendly guest you`ve brought to bed
Death makes angels of us all
And gives us wings where we had shoulders
Smooth as raven`s claws

No more money, no more fancy dress
This other kingdom seems by far the best
Until it`s other jaw reveals incest
And loose obedience to a vegetable law.

I will not go
Prefer a feast of friends
To the giant famïly.

Categoria: Versuri melodii

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Adaugat in: Nov 5, 2012

Vizualizari: 282

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