Am I a pilgrim, or another souvineer hound?
In the city of lights, I set my sights on a king's domain
It was a manhole dug over at the edge of town
And a spray-can scrawl on a cemetary wall said 'You'd better
behave'
Jim Morrison's grave
It's getting cold here and there ain't a lizard in sight
Did the end begin when you shed your skin in the home of the brave?
Somebody shake him from the land of larger-than-life
Where the remnants warn of a legand born in a dead man's cave
Jim Morrison's grave
I stay driven 'cause there's nowhere to park
I can't shut my eyes - I'm afraid of the dark
I lie awake, that stone left me chilled to the bone
Sound the alarm before it's done
Find Jim Morrison
Come away to Paris, let him see another day
Let him fade out slowly, only fools burn away
Let a true love show him what a heart can become
Somebody find Jim Morrison
Find Jim Morrison's grave
I get weary, Lord, I don't understand
How does a seed get strangled in the heart of a man?
Then the music covers like an evening mist
Like a watch still ticking on a dead man's wrist
Tick away
Written by Steve Taylor © 1987 Soylent Tunes
Taylor says, "A stream-of-consciousness graveside meditation on the folly
of dead-rock-star worship, and speaking of Kurt Cobain - who was, I think,
far more honest and far less cruel - when anyone takes an unblinking look
into the well, if they don't find living water, they'll find nothing but
a black hole. I assume Kurt Cobain could only see the latter. Some wonder
what causes so many people to commit suicide. I wonder what causes so many
people not to. Everyday I'm convinced afresh that apart from God, nothing
makes sense."
(Taken from liner notes to "Now The Truth Can
Be Told")
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