The Doors Albinonis Adagio In G Minor

We can invent Kingdoms of our own grand purple thrones, those chairs of lust love we must, in beds of rust Steel doors lock in prisoner s screams muzak, AM, rocks their dreams No black men s pride to hoist the beams while mocking angels sift what seems To be a collage of magazine dust Scratched on foreheads of walls of trust This is just jail for those who must get up in the morning fight for such Unusable standards While weeping maidens Showoff penury pout Ravings for a mad staff