Indians scattered on dawn’s highway bleeding/Ghosts crowd the young child’s fragile eggshell mind.
JIM MORRISONIndians scattered on dawn’s highway bleeding/Ghosts crowd the young child’s fragile eggshell mind.
JIM MORRISONI like people who shake other people up and make them feel uncomfortable.
JIM MORRISONThat’s what real love amounts to – letting a person be what he really is..
JIM MORRISONLove hurts. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous
JIM MORRISONI believe in a long, prolonged, derangement of the senses in order to obtain the unknown.
JIM MORRISONSex is full of lies. The body tries to tell the truth. But, it’s usually too battered with rules to be heard, and bound with pretenses so it can hardly move.
JIM MORRISONWe felt comfortable in our skins, enjoyed the news that our senses released to us, admired our dirt, cultivated our scars, and could not comprehend this unworthiness.
JIM MORRISONMy wild words slip into fusion and risk losing the solid ground. So stranger, get wilder still. Probe the highlands.
JIM MORRISONTake it easy baby, take it as it comes – specialize in having fun!
JIM MORRISONA person has to be willing to give up everything—not just wealth. All the bullshit he’s been taught—all society’s brainwashing.
JIM MORRISONGive me songs to sing and emerald dreams to dream and I’ll give you love unfolding.
JIM MORRISONOut here on the perimeter there are no stars. Out here we is stoned. Immaculate.
JIM MORRISONBlood is the rose of mysterious union.
JIM MORRISONAll the poems have wolves in them. All but one. The most beautiful one of all. She dances in a ring of fire and throws off the challenge with a shrug.
JIM MORRISONIn the beginning we were creating our music, ourselves, every night . . . starting with a few outlines, maybe a few words for a song.
JIM MORRISONI want to have my kicks before the whole shithouse goes up in flames.
JIM MORRISON