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Angels and Sailors
Jim Morrison, music by The Doors
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๐ฌ๐ง English ยท Original
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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
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