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 maneuvered two girls into his hotel room
One a friend, the other
The young one, a newer stranger
Vaguely Mexican or Puerto Rican
Poor boy's thighs and buttock 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

Copyright: Doors Music Company
Writer(s): Jim Morrison, John Paul Densmore, Raymond D Manzarek, Robert A Krieger