Jim Morrison The white blind light
Your home is still here. Violet, uncertain. Thank you, oh lord, for the white blind light. Jumped humped, born to Made to undress in the wilderness. All of us have found a safe niche where we can store up our riches and talk to our fellows the same premises of disaster. Thank you, oh lord, for the white blind light. Let me tell you about heartache in the loss of god wandering in hopeless nights. Moonshine night, mountain village insane in the wood and the deep trees.
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