𝗔𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗹𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝗮𝗶𝗹𝗼𝗿𝘀
𝗥𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹𝘀, 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘆𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝗳𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀, 𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀
𝗗𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺𝘀 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗻𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗹𝘆
𝗦𝗼𝗳𝘁 𝗹𝘂𝘅𝘂𝗿𝗶𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝘀
𝗚𝗶𝗿𝗹𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝗴𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗴𝗲𝘀, 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗱
𝗢𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝗹𝗶𝗾𝘂𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗰𝗹𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘀
𝗛𝗮𝗹𝗳 𝗴𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝗶𝘅-𝗽𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗯𝗲𝗲𝗿
𝗝𝘂𝗺𝗽𝗲𝗱, 𝗵𝘂𝗺𝗽𝗲𝗱, 𝗯𝗼𝗿𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝘂𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿
𝗠𝗮𝗱𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀

𝗜 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗻
𝗡𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗻𝗼 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗰𝗲𝗻𝗲
𝗜'𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗜'𝘃𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗲𝗻

𝗔𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗮 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗴𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗿, 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗮 𝗸𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗿
𝗔𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗮 𝗯𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗺𝗮𝗶𝗱 𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗴𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗳𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿
𝗛𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗲𝘂𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹𝘀 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗵𝗼𝘁𝗲𝗹 𝗿𝗼𝗼𝗺
𝗢𝗻𝗲 𝗮 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿
𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗻𝗲, 𝗮 𝗻𝗲𝘄𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿
𝗩𝗮𝗴𝘂𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝗠𝗲𝘅𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗼𝗿 𝗣𝘂𝗲𝗿𝘁𝗼 𝗥𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗻
𝗣𝗼𝗼𝗿 𝗯𝗼𝘆'𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗯𝘂𝘁𝘁𝗼𝗰𝗸 𝘀𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 𝗮 𝗳𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿'𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗹𝘁
𝗦𝗵𝗲'𝘀 𝘁𝗿𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗲
𝗦𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱, 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝗱𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵 𝗴𝗮𝗺𝗲𝘀
𝗛𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗹𝗮𝗱, 𝗱𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝗶𝗻 𝗮 𝗰𝗮𝗿
𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗳𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗻𝗼 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀
𝗖𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲, 𝗜 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂
𝗣𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗵
𝗪𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗶𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗺𝗲?
𝗘𝗮𝘁 𝗺𝗲
𝗧𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗮𝘆
𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗻𝗱

𝗜'𝗹𝗹 𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗯𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗲
𝗡𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗴𝗼 𝗼𝘂𝘁, 𝘀𝗻𝗲𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗼𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝗯𝗮𝗯𝗲
𝗜𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗹𝗹 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗺𝗲
𝗙𝗮𝗿 𝗔𝗿𝗱𝗲𝗻 𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻

𝗜'𝗺 𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗽𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝗶𝘁 𝘂𝗽
𝗛𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗽𝘀 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗹𝘆, 𝘀𝗮𝗿𝗱𝗼𝗻𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆, 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗯𝗲𝗹𝘁
"𝗛𝗮𝘃𝗲𝗻'𝘁 𝗜 𝗯𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝗲𝗻𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵?" 𝘀𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝘀𝗸𝘀
𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗱𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴
𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗦𝗽𝗮𝗻𝗶𝘀𝗵 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹 𝗯𝗲𝗴𝗶𝗻𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗱
𝗦𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗼𝗱
𝗜𝘁'𝘀 𝗖𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗶𝗰 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲𝗻
𝗜 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗶𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗜𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗮𝗻 𝗰𝗿𝘂𝗰𝗶𝗳𝗶𝘅 𝗮𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝗺𝘆 𝗻𝗲𝗰𝗸
𝗠𝘆 𝗰𝗵𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗯𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗻
𝗟𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗻 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗱, 𝘄𝗿𝗲𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗲𝘁𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮 𝗯𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘃𝗶𝗿𝗴𝗶𝗻
𝗪𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗻 𝗮 𝗺𝘂𝗿𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗶𝗼𝗻

~ Jim Morrison / Mr. Mojo Risin' / The Lizard King