martedì 18 dicembre 2007

The soft parade

«When I was back there in seminary school
There was a person there
Who put forth the proposition
That you can petition the Lord with prayer
Petition the lord with prayer
Petition the lord with prayer
You cannot petition the lord with prayer!

Can you give me sanctuary
I must find a place to hide
A place for me to hide
Can you find me soft asylum
I can't make it anymore
The man is at the door

Peppermint miniskirts, chocolate candy
Champion sax and a girl named Sandy

There's only four ways to get unraveled
One is to sleep and the other is travel

One is a bandit up in the hills
One is to love your neighbor till
His wife gets home

Catacombs, nursery bones
Winter women growing stones
(Carrying babies to the river)

Streets and shoes, avenues
Leather riders selling news

(The monk bought lunch)

Ha ha, he bought a little
Yes, he did
This is the best part of the trip
This is the trip, the best part
I really like
What'd he say?
Yeah, right!
Pretty good, huh
Yeah, I'm proud to be a part of this number

Successful hills are here to stay
Everything must be this way
Gentle streets where people play
Welcome to the soft parade

All our lives we sweat and save
Building for a shallow grave
Must be something else we say
Somehow to defend this place
Everything must be this way
(Everything must be this way)

The soft parade has now begun
Listen to the engines hum
People out to have some fun
A cobra on my left
Leopard on my right

Deer woman in a silk dress
Girls with beads around their necks
Kiss the hunter of the green vest
Who has wrestled before
With lions in the night

Out of sight!

The lights are getting brighter
The radio is moaning
Calling to the dogs
There are still a few animals
Left out in the yard
But it's getting harder
To describe
To the underfed

Tropic corridor
Tropic treasure
What got us this far
To this mild Equator?
We need someone or something new
Something else to get us through

Callin' on the dogs
Callin' on the dogs
Oh, it's gettin' harder
Callin' on the dogs
Callin' in the dogs
Callin' all the dogs
Callin' on the gods

Meet me at the crossroads
Meet me at the edge of town
Outskirts of the city
Just you and I
And the evening sky
You’d better come alone
You’d better bring your gun
We’re gonna have some fun

When all else fails
We can whip the horses' eyes
And make them sleep
And cry...»

Perché ciascun disco dei Doors mi commuove?
Credo sia colpa del mio modo anacronistico, decadente, lontano di vivere le cose. Di vivere la parata.

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