Angels and Sailors - Jim Morrison, The Doors

Angels and sailors,

Rich girls, backyard fences, tents,

Dreams watching each other narrowly,

Soft luxuriant cars.

Girls in garages, stripped

Out to get liquor and clothes,

Half gallons of wine and six packs of beer.

Jumped, humped, born to suffer,

Made to undress in the wilderness.

I will never treat you mean.

Never start no kind of scene.

I’ll tell you

Every place and person that I’ve been.

Always a playground instructor

Never a killer.

Always a bridesmaid

On the verge of fame or over,

He manuevered two girls

Into his hotel room.

One a friend,

The other, the young one,

A newer stranger.

Vaguely Mexican or Puerto Rican.

Poor boys thighs and buttocks

Scarred by a father’s belt.

She’s trying to rise.

Story of her boyfriend

Of teenage stoned death games.

Handsome lad, dead in a car.

Confusion.

No connections.

Come here.

I love you.

Peace on earth.

Will you die for me?

Eat me.

This way.

The end.

I’ll always be true.

Never go out, sneaking out on you, babe.

If you’ll only show me Far Arden again.

I’m surprised you could get it up.

He whips her lightly, sardonically with belt.

«Haven't I been through enough?"she asks,

Now dressed and leaving.

The Spanish girl begins to bleed;

She says her period.

It’s Catholic heaven.

I have an ancient Indian crucifix around my neck.

My chest is hard and brown.

Lying on stained, wretched sheets

With a bleeding virgin,

We could plan a murder

Or start a religion.