Las puertas de la conciencia

Mi humilde homenaje a uno de los poco rockeros yankis que respeto y admiro. Jim Morrison tuvo la vida de una estrella de rock and roll, pero hizo algo que mucho otros no hicieron: escribir buenas letras.



The ghost song


Awake.
Shake dreams from your hair
my pretty child, my sweet one.
Choose the day and choose the sign of your day
the day's divinity
First thing you see.

A vast radiant beach and cooled jeweled moon
Couples naked race down by it's quiet side
And we laugh like soft, mad children
Smug in the wooly cotton brains of infancy
The music and voices are all around us.

Choose they croon the Ancient Ones
the time has come again
choose now, they croon
beneath the moon
beside an ancient lake

Enter again the sweet forest
Enter the hot dream
Come with us
everything is broken up and dances.

Indians scattered, 
On dawn's highway bleeding
Ghosts crowd the young child’s, 
Fragile eggshell mind

We have assembled inside, 
This ancient and insane theater
To propagate our lust for life, 
And flee the swarming wisdom of the streets.

The barns have stormed 
The windows kept,
And only one of all the rest 
To dance and save us 
From the divine mockery of words,
Music inflames temperament. 

Ooh great creator of being 
Grant us one more hour, 
To perform our art 
And perfect our lives. 

We need great golden copulations,

When the true kings murderers 
Are allowed to roam free,
A thousand magicians arise in the land 
Where are the feast we are promised?

One more thing

Thank you oh lord
For the white blind light
Thank you oh lord
For the white blind light

A city rises from the sea
I had a splitting headache
From which the future's made