The Doors
The Doors - Poems From Tape Noon lyrics
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desperate impressions together MONEY... Money, the beauty of (currency pale green greesy ornate soft furrowed texture) Skin or leather ENTER THE SLIP Enter the slip of the warm womb tide Wet labyrinth kiss digging the wells & riding the lies all holes & poles Walk down a street A drive to the beach Drowning man's flash A town in siege THE DESERT The Desert -- roseate metallic blue & insect green blank mirrors & pools of silver a universe in one body BIBULOUS COMPOUND OF Bibulous compound of muck & mulch milk Tenebrous connections in forest & farm all-swarming disk-like elegance Say No More - That sure was a mouthful. - You said it. YOU MUST CONFRONT you must confront your life which is sneaking up on you like a rapt coiled serpent snail-slime you must confront the inevitable eventually Bloody Bones has got you! HOPE IS JUST... hope is just a word when you think in Table Cloths Laughter will not end her funny feeling or assuage our strange desire Children will be born WELCOME TO THE AMERICAN NIGHT Welcome to the American Night where dogs bite to find the voice the face the fate the fame to be tamed by The Night in a quiet soft luxuriant car Hitchhikers line the Great Highway COCK-PIT Cock-pit I am real Take a snapshot of me He is real, shot Reality is what has been concealed from us for so long birth sex death we're alive when we laugh when we can feel the rush & spurt of blood blood is real in its redness the rainbow is real in absence of blood SUDDEN ATTACK Sudden attack Stabbed & hacked but no pain no death Zone of silence Sudden powered mute strangeness & awareness most awkward to the mind alive w/ love & laughter & memory sweet of kinder times when we spoke & words had soft form by a fire THIS IS MY FOREST This is my forest a sea of wires. This gaggle of vision is my flame. These trees are men, the engineers. And a tribe of farmers on their Sunday off. Gods -- the directors. Cameras, greek Centaurs on the boom, sliding w/ silent Mobile grace Toward me -- a leaping clown In the great sun's eye. Grand danger there in curved thigh. The avenging finger -- lord. DANCING & THRASHING Dancing & thrashing the reptile summer They'll be here long before we're gone Sunning themselves on the marble porch Raging w/in against the slow heat Of an invaded Town The Kingdom is ours TRANSLATIONS OF THE DIVINE Translations of the divine in all languages. The Blues, The records get you high, in armies / on swift channels. The new dreamer will sing to the mind w/ thoughts uncluthed by speech. Pirate mind stations. Las Vegas T.V. Midnite showings. ELECTRIC STORM electric storm from the front barometer at zero forest blue-eyed dog strangled by snow Night storm flight-drive thru deserts neon capitals, Wilderness echoed & silenced by angels Angel Flight to tobacco farm the roadhouse tomorrow get ready for the Night the rumors on waking a gradual feeling of learning & remembering imagine a heaven in the night-time would one member be missing? THE FORM IS AN ANGEL... The form is an angel of soul from horse to man to boy & back again Music sex & idea are the currents of connection friendship transition conductor of soul from the fat brain of stealth to sunset Work out Welcome to the night Welcome to the deep good dark American Night a man gets time to die his amber waste sloven footsteps of swine in the camps, w/ dark black lumber crooked stars have destiny's number Lord help us LEAVE THE INFORMED SENSE Leave the informed sense in our wake you be Christ on this package tour -- Money beats soul -- Last words, last words out