The Ghost Song

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9wr_i3Y9_c4

The Ghost Song is a song by The Doors, and was released on An American Prayer in 1978, 7 years after Jim Morrison's death in Paris, France. The song is Morrison's poetry recording with the rest of the band's music.

Part of the lyrics to the song, with the mention of "Indians scattered on dawn's highway, bleeding", allegedly refers to one of Morrison's childhood experiences, when he and his family were driving down a desert highway and passed a road accident site, where trucks loaded with indian workers had collided. According to Morrison, during that experience the souls of the dead indian workers "leapt into his soul and stayed there".

The song marks the first creation of new Doors songs, with the overdubbing of music to pre-existing poetry recital tapes by the surviving Doors members.

Awake.
Shake dreams from your hair
my pretty child, my sweet one.
Choose the day and choose the sign of your day
the day's divinity
First thing you see.

A vast radiant beach and cooled jeweled moon
Couples naked race down by it's 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 dawn's highway bleeding
Ghosts crowd the young child’s,
Fragile eggshell mind

We have assembled inside,
This ancient and insane theater
To propagate our lust for 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 the true kings murderers
Are allowed to roam free,
A thousand magicians arise in 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 future's made