…And all you wanted more than life
was to say you had slept with Jim Morrison,
it didn’t matter where or how, you just wanted that infamy,
the fame and glory, the smile of pleasure
the ring of tears when the camera pointed at you dressed in black
at the poet’s graveside, grieving but with a story to tell…
lots of stories to tell and not all of them yours to share.
You brushed hair in a certain style before I came round
knocking on the red wooden door, the only thing that
Originally published by L.S. Media. January 25th 2012.
L.S. Media Rating *****
I admit my musical relationship with The Doors is not what it could have been. I didn’t appreciate the American band at all. The reason for this rather glib demonstration of lack of musical compatibility is down to a girl I used to date who had the most overpowering and dedicated crush on Jim Morrison. No not a crush, she lived, breathed and dreamt of him, not a problem, that didn’t bother me. It was being called Jim that got me down about the band…for the record my name is not Jim!