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The Doors
The Doors


Информация
Откуда Los Angeles, California, United States
Жанры Psychedelic Rock
Blues Rock
Hard Rock
Rock
Годы 1965—1973
Лейблы Elektra Records
Rhino Records
См. также Manzarek-Krieger
The Butts Band
Nite City
Marc Benno
Сайт Website
Бывшие участники
Jim Morrison
Ray Manzarek
John Densmore
Robby Krieger



Music World  →  Тексты песен  →  T  →  The Doors  →  Дискография  →  Morrison Hotel

Альбом The Doors


Morrison Hotel (1970)
1970
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. . .


Keep your eyes on the road, your hands upon the wheel
Keep your eyes on the road, your hands upon the wheel
Yeah, we're goin' to the Roadhouse
Gonna have a real
Good time

Yeah, in back of the Roadhouse they got some bungalows
Yeah, in back of the Roadhouse they got some bungalows
And that's for the people
Who like to go down slow

Let it roll, baby, roll
Let it roll, baby, roll
Let it roll, baby, roll
Let it roll, all night long


Ashen lady, Ashen lady
Give up your vows, give up your vows
Save our city, save our city
Right now

Well, I woke up this morning, I got myself a beer
Yeah, I woke up this morning, and I got myself a beer
The future's uncertain, and the end is always near

Let it roll, baby, roll
Let it roll, baby, roll
Let it roll, baby, roll
Let it roll, all night long


. . .


At first flash of Eden, We race down to the sea.
Standing there on freedom's shore.

Waiting for the sun. Waiting for the sun. Waiting for the sun.

Can you feel it, now that spring has come?
That it's time to live In the scattered sun.

Waiting for the sun. Waiting for the sun. Waiting for the sun.
Waiting for the sun.
Waiting...

Waiting for you to
Come along.

Waiting for you to
Hear my song.

Waiting for you to come along.
Waiting for you to Tell me what went wrong.

This is the strangest life I've ever known.

Can't you feel it, now that spring has come?
That it's time to live In the scattered sun.

Waiting for the sun. Waiting for the sun. Waiting for the sun. Waiting for the sun


. . .


I really want you, really do.
Really need you baby, God knows I do.
'Cause I'm not real enough without you;
Oh, what can I do?
You make me real.
You make me feel, like lovers feel.
You make me throwaway mistake and misery.
Make me feel love, make me free.

I really want you, really do.
Really need you baby, really do.
Well I'm not real enough without you;
Oh, what can I do?
You make me real.
Only you baby, have that appeal.
So let me slide in your tender sunken sea.
Make me feel love, make me free.

Roll now, baby, roll
Yeah, roll now, baby, roll
You gotta roll now, baby, roll
Roll now, baby, roll
You make me real, alright.
You make me feel, like lovers feel.
You make me throwaway mistake and misery.
Make me feel, make me free.
Make me free, You make me free.


. . .


There's blood in the streets, it's up to my ankles
There's blood on the streets, it's up to my knee
Blood on the streets in the town of Chicago
Blood on the rise, it's following me
She came...
Just about the break of day

She came, then she drove away
Sunlight in her hair

Blood in the streets runs a river of sadness
Blood in the streets it's up to my thigh
The river runs down the legs of the city
The women are crying red rivers of weeping

She came into town and then she drove away
Sunlight in her hair

Indians scattered on dawn's highway bleeding
Ghosts crowd the young child's fragile egg-shell mind

Blood in the streets in the town of New Haven
Blood stains the roofs and the palm trees of Venice
Blood in my love in the terrible summer
Bloody red sun of phantastic L.A.

Blood screams her brain as they chop off her fingers
Blood will be born in the birth of a nation
Blood is the rose of mysterious union

There's blood in the streets, it's up to my ankles
Blood in the streets, it's up to my knee
Blood in the streets of the town of Chicago
Blood on the rise, it's following me


. . .


I found my own true love was on a blue Sunday.
She looked at me and told me I was the only one in the world.
Now I have found my girl.
My girl awaits for me in tender time.
My girl is mine, She is the world,
She is my girl.
My girl awaits for me in tender time.
My girl is mine, She is the world, She is my girl.


. . .


The human race was dyin' out.
No one left to scream and shout.
People walkin' on the moon.
Smog will get you pretty soon.

The human race was dying out.
No one left to scream and shout.
People walking on the moon.
Smog will get you pretty soon.
Everyone was hangin' out.
Hangin' up and hangin' down.
Hangin' in and holdin' fast.
Hope our little world will last.
Along came Mr. Goodtrips Looking for a new a ship.
Come on, people, better climb on board.
Come on, baby, now we're going home.
Ship of fools, ship of fools.
The human race was dying out.
No one left to scream and shout.
People walking on the moon.
Smog gonna get you pretty soon.
Ship of fools, ship of fools. Ship of fools, ship of fools.
Ship of fools, ship of fools.
Ship of fools.
Yeah, climb on board Ship's gonna leave ya far behind
Climb on board
Ship of fools
Ship of fools



. . .


Grandma loved a sailor who sailed the frozen sea.
Grandpa was that whaler and he took me on his knee.
He said, "Son, I'm goin' crazy From livin' on the land.
Got to find my shipmates and walk on foreign sands."
This old man was graceful, with silver in his smile.
He smoked a briar pipe and He walked for country miles.
Singing songs of shady sisters and old time liberty.
Songs of love and songs of death And songs to set men free.
I've got three ships and sixty men, A course for ports unread.
I'll stand at mast, let north winds blow Till half of us are dead.
Land ho!
Well, if I get my hands on a dollar bill, Gonna buy a bottle and drink my fill.
If I get my hands on a number five, Gonna skin that litlle girl alive.
If I get my hands on a number two, Come back home and marry you, marry you, marry you. All right! Land ho!
Yeah, land ho Yeah, land ho
Well, if I get back home And I feel all right
You know I'm gonna love you tonight
Love tonight Love tonight
Yeah, land ho!


. . .


I'm a spy in the house of love.
I know the dream, that you're dreamin' of.
I know the words that you long to hear.
I know your deepest, secret fear.
I'm a spy in the house of love.
I know the dream, that you're dreamin' of.
I know the words that you long to hear.
I know your deepest, secret fear.
I know ev'rything. Ev'rything you do. Ev'rywhere you go. Ev'ryone you know.

I'm a spy in the house of love.
I know the dreams, that you're dreamin' of.
I know the words that you long to hear.
I know your deepest, secret fear.
I know your deepest, secret fear.
I know your deepest, secret fear. I'm a spy, I can see you
What you do.
And I know.


. . .


She was a princess, Queen of the highway
Sign on the road said: "Take us to Madre"
No one could save her, save the blind tiger
He was a monster, black dressed in leather
She was a princess, Queen of the highway

Now they are wedded, She is a good girl
Naked as children out in the meadow,
Naked as children, wild as can be,
Soon to have offspring, start it all over
Start at all over

American boy, American girl,
Most beautiful people in the world
Son of a frontier Indian swirl,
Dancing through the midnight whirl-pool
Formless
Hope it can
continue a little while longer


. . .


I love you, the best.
Better than all the rest.
I love you, the best.
Better than all the rest, That I meet in the summer.
Indian summer.
That I meet in the summer.
Indian summer.
I love you, the best.
Better than all the rest.


. . .


Miss Maggie M'Gill she lived on a hill.
Her daddy got drunk and left her the will.
So she went down down to "Tangie Town."
People down there Really like to get it on.
Now if you're sad, And you're feeling blue.
Go out and buy a Brand new pair of shoes.
And you go down, Down to "Tangie Town."
The people down there really like to get it on.
Get it on. Illegitimate son Of a rock n' roll star.
Illegitimate son of a rock n' roll star.
Mom met dad in the back f a rock n' roll car.
Well, I'm an old blues man and I think that you understand.
I've been singing the blues ever since the world began.
Maggie, Maggie, Maggie M'Gill. Roll on, roll on, Maggie M'Gill.
Maggie, Maggie, Maggie M'Gill. Roll on, roll on, Maggie M'Gill.


. . .


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