The Doors - The Severed Garden

Wow, I'm sick of doubt
Live in the light of certain
south
Cruel bindings
The sevants have the power
dog-men & their mean women
pulling poor blankets over
our sailors
I'm sick of dour faces
Staring at me from the T.V.
Tower, I want roses in
my garden bower; dig?
Royal babies, rubies
must now replace aborted
Strangers in the mud
These mutants, blood-meal
for the plant that's plowed
they are waiting to take us into
the severed garden
Do you know how pale
& wanton
thrillful
comes death on a stranger hour
unannounced, unplanned for
like a scaring
over-friendly guest
you've
brought to bed
Death makes angels of us all
& gives us wings
where we had shoulders
smooth as raven's
claws
No more money, no more fancy dress
This other kingdom seems
by far the best
until its other jaw reveals incest
& loose obedience
to a vegetable law
I will not go
Prefer a feast of friends
To the Giant family