Friday, July 9

Jim Morrison


Awake...

Shake dreams from your hair
My pretty child, my sweet one.
Choose the day and choose the sign of your day
The day's divinity
First thing you see.

Indians scattered on dawn's highway bleeding
Ghosts crowd the young child's fragile eggshell mind.

So beautiful, and seeing as he was burried in Paris 33 years ago today... remember how pretty he was.