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Download Doors - Strange Days
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Some "Doors" lyrics
To Come Of Age / Black Polished Chrome
Can we resolve the past
Lurking jaws, joints of time?
The Base
To come of age in a dry place
Holes and caves.
The music was new
black polished chrome
And came over the summer
like liquid night.
The DJ's took pills to stay awake
and play for seven days
The general's son had a sister
They went down to see him
They went to the studio
And someone knew him
Someone knew the TV showman
He came to our homeroom party
and played records
And when he left in the hot noon sun
and walked to his car
We saw the chooks had written
F~U~C~K on his windshield
He wiped it off with a white rag
and smiling cooly drove away
He's rich. Got a big car.
My friend drove and hour each day from the mountains
The bus gives you a hardon with books in your lap
We shot the bird with the black MP
My gang will get you
Scenes of rape in the arroyo
Seductions in cars, abandoned buildings
Fights at the food stand
The dust
The shoes
Open shirts and raised collars
Bright sculptured hair.
Spades dance best from the hip
Someone shot the bird in the afternoon dance show
They gave out free records to the best couple
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 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 'ere
I love you
Peace on earth
Will you die for me?
Eat me
This way
The end
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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Texas Radio And The Big Beat #1 (Letter From Shirl
The truth is on his chest
The cellular excitement has
Totally inspired our magic
Veteran. And now for an
old trip. I'm tired of thinking.
I want the old forms to
reassert their sexual cool.
My mind is just-you know.
And this morning before I sign
off I would like to tell you
about Texas Radio & the Big Beat.
It moves into the perimeter of
your sacred sincere & dedicated
Smile like a calm survivor
of the psychic war. He was
no general for he was not old.
He was no private for he
could not be sold.
He was only a man & his
dedication extended to the last
degree. Poor pretentious soldier,
come home. The dark Los Angeles
evening is steaming the Church
that we attended & I miss
my boy. Stupid in green-
What the color green? When
I watch the T.V. & I see
helicopters swirling their
brutal & bountiful sensation
over the fields & the comic walls
I can only smile & fix a meal
& think about the child who
will one day own you.
In conclusion, darling, let
me repeat: your home is still
here, inviolate & certain
and I open the wide smile of
my remembrance of your lunging thighs. This to you
on the anniversary of our first
night. I know you love me
to talk this way. I hope
no one sees this message
written in the calm lonely
far out languid afternoon
W/my total love, Shirley
(How we doin' on time?)
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