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The Kinks, la consagración de unos outsiders de lujo
The Doors
InformaciónBiografíaDiscografíaConciertosZona TV
The Soft Parade
ÁlbumThe Soft Parade, 1969. Tema 9
IntérpreteThe Doors
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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 can not 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 miniskirt, 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
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.

He bought a little.
This is the best part of the trip,
This is the trip, the best part.

Succesfull hills are here to stay
Everything must be this way.
Gentle street 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.

The soft parade has now begun
Listen to the engines hum.
People out there have some fun.
Cobra on my left, leopard on my right.
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.

Calling on the dogs, calling on the dogs
But it's getting harder
Calling on the dogs.

You got to shoot a few animals
Left out in the yard.
You got to meet me
At the crossroad.
Too late, baby, too late.

But it's getting much harder.
Got to meet me at the edge of town.
Tropic corridor.
You'd better come along.
Just you and I.
Outskirts of the city.
We were so alone.
Tropic treasure.

Better bring your gun
You'd better bring your gun
Tropic corridor, tropic treasure.

When all else fails, we can whip
The horse's eyes and make them
Sleep and cry.

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