Curses, Invocations lyrics
by The Doors
Curses, invocations
Weird bate-headed mongrels
I keep expecting one of you to rise
Large buxom obese queens
Garden hogs and c*nt veterans
Quaint cabbage saints
sh*t hoarders and individualists
Drag strip officials
Tight lipped losers and
Lustful f*ck salesmen
My militant dandies
All strange order of monsters
Hot on the trail of the woodvine
We welcome you to our procession
Here come the comedians
Look at them smile
Watch them dance an Indian mile
Look at them gesture
How aplomb
So to gesture everyone
Words dissemble
Words be quick
Words resemble walking sticks
Plant them they will grow
Watch them waver so
I'll always be a word man
Better than a bird man