Interpret:

Doors, The

Album:

An American Prayer

Angels and sailors 
rich girls 
backyard fences 
tents 


Dreams watching each other narrowly 
soft luxuriant cars 
Girls in garages, stripped 
out to get liquor and clothes 
half gallons of wine and six-packs of beer 
Jumped, humped, born to suffer 
made to undress in the wilderness. 


I will never treat you mean 
Never start no kind of scene 
I'll tell you every place and person that I've been. 


Always a playground instructor, never a killer 
Always a bridesmaid on the verge of fame or over 
He manouvered two girls into his hotel room 
One a friend, the other, the young one, a newer stranger 
Vaguely Mexican or Puerto Rican 
Poor boys thighs and buttock scarred by a father's belt 
She's trying to rie 
Story of her boyfriend, of teenage stoned death games 
Handsome lad, dead in a car 
Confusion 
No connections 
Come 'ere 
I love you 
Peace on earth 
Will you die for me? 
Eat me 
This way 
The end 


I'll always be true 
Never go out, sneaking out on you, babe 
If you'll only show me Far Arden again. 


I'm surprised you could get it up 
He whips her lightly, sardonically, with belt 
Haven't I been through enough? she asks 
Now dressed and leaving 
The Spanish girl begins to bleed 
She says her period 
It's Catholic heaven 
I have an ancient Indian crucifix around my neck 
My chest is hard and brown 
Lying on stained, wretched sheets with a bleeding virgin 
We could plan a murder 
Or start a religion.