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DAWN'S HIGHWAY
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The Doors
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Indians scattered on dawn's highway bleeding
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Ghosts crowd the young child's fragile eggshell mind.
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Me and my -ah- mother and father - and a
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grandmother and a grandfather - were driving through
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the desert, at dawn, and a truck load of Indian
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workers had either hit another car, or just - I don't
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know what happened - but there were Indians scattered
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all over the highway, bleeding to death.
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So the car pulls up and stops. That was the first time
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I tasted fear. I musta' been about four - like a child is
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like a flower, his head is just floating in the
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breeze, man.
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The reaction I get now thinking about it, looking
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back - is that the souls of the ghosts of those dead
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Indians...maybe one or two of 'em...were just
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running around freaking out, and just leaped into my
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soul. And they're still in there.
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Indians scattered on dawn's highway bleeding
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Ghosts crowd the young child's fragile eggshell mind.
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Blood in the streets in the town of New Haven
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Blood stains the roofs and the palm trees of Venice
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Blood in my love in the terrible summer
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Bloody red sun of Phantastic L.A.
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Blood screams her brain as they chop off her fingers
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Blood will be born in the birth if a nation
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Blood is the rose of mysterious union
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Blood on the rise, it's following me.
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Indian, Indian what did you die for?
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Indian says, nothing at all.
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