The Doors Albinonis Adagio In G Minor (1970)

Wow, I m sick of doubt Live in the light of certain South Cruel bindings. The servants have the power dogmen and their mean women pulling poor blankets over our sailors I m sick of dour faces Staring at me from the TV Tower, I want roses in my garden bower; dig Royal babies, rubies must now replace aborted Strangers in the mud These mutants, bloodmeal for the plant that s plowed. They are waiting to take us into the severed garden Do you know how pale and wanton thrillful comes death on a strange hour