Doors, The – The Soft Parade (Live On PBS Television, New York, 1970)

When I was back there in seminary school

There was a person there

Who put forth the proposition

That you can petition the Lord with prayer

Petition the lord with prayer

Petition the lord with prayer

You cannot petition the lord with prayer!

Can you give me sanctuary

I must find a place to hide

A place for me to hide

Can you find me soft asylum

I can’t make it anymore

The Man is at the door

Peppermint, miniskirts, chocolate candy

Champion sax and a girl named Sandy

There’s only four ways to get unraveled

One is to sleep and the other is travel, da da

One is a bandit up in the hills

One is to love your neighbor ’till

His wife gets home

Catacombs

Nursery bones

Winter women

Growing stones

Carrying babies

To the river

Streets and shoes

Avenues

Leather riders

Selling news

The monk bought lunch

Ha ha, he bought a little

Yes, he did

Woo!

This is the best part of the trip

This is the trip, the best part

I really like

What’d he say?

Yeah!

Yeah, right!

Pretty good, huh

Huh!

Yeah, I’m proud to be a part of this number

Successful hills are here to stay

Everything must be this way

Gentle streets where people play

Welcome to the Soft Parade

All our lives we sweat and save

Building for a shallow grave

Must be something else we say

Somehow to defend this place

Everything must be this way

Everything must be this way, yeah

The Soft Parade has now begun

Listen to the engines hum

People out to have some fun

A cobra on my left

Leopard on my right, yeah

The deer woman in a silk dress

Girls with beads around their necks

Kiss the hunter of the green vest

Who has wrestled before

With lions in the night

Out of sight!

The lights are getting brighter

The radio is moaning

Calling to the dogs

There are still a few animals

Left out in the yard

But it’s getting harder

To describe sailors

To the underfed

Tropic corridor

Tropic treasure

What got us this far

To this mild equator?

We need someone or something new

Something else to get us through, yeah, c’mon

Callin’ on the dogs

Callin’ on the dogs

Oh, it’s gettin’ harder

Callin’ on the dogs

Callin’ in the dogs

Callin’ all the dogs

Callin’ on the gods

You gotta meet me

Too late, baby

Slay a few animals

At the crossroads

Too late

All in the yard

But it’s gettin’ harder

By the crossroads

You gotta meet me

Oh, we’re goin’, we’re goin great

At the edge of town

Tropic corridor

Tropic treasure

Havin’ a good time

Got to come along

What got us this far

To this mild equator?

Outskirts of the city

You and I

We need someone new

Somethin’ new

Somethin’ else to get us through

Better bring your gun

Better bring your gun

Tropic corridor

Tropic treasure

We’re gonna ride and have some fun

When all else fails

We can whip the horse’s eyes

And make them sleep

And cry