[al:]
[ar:the doors]
[ti:a feast of friends]
[00:03.26]Artist: Doors

[00:03.66]Album: An American Prayer

[00:04.16]Title: A Feast Of Friends

[00:05.67]Wow, I'm sick of doubt.

[00:07.87]Live in the light of certain.

[00:09.32]South.

[00:09.87]Cruel bindings.

[00:12.47]The servants have the power.

[00:14.68]Dog men and their mean women pulling poor blankets over our sailors.

[00:23.74]I'm sick of dour faces staring at me from the T.V. tower.

[00:33.41]I want roses in my garden bower, dig?

[00:36.98]Royal babies, rubies must now replace aborted strangers in the mud.

[00:45.28]These mutants, blood-meal for the plant that's plowed.

[01:10.76]They are waiting to take us into the severed garden.

[01:15.32]Do you know how pale and wanton thrillful comes death on a strange hour?

[01:20.59]Unannounced, unplanned for,

[01:23.09]like a scaring over-friendly guest you've brought to bed.

[01:28.11]Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings where we had shoulders

[01:32.47]smooth as raven's claws.

[01:39.17]No more money, no more fancy dress,

[01:41.48]this other kingdom seems by far the best,

[01:44.18]until it's other jaw reveals incest,

[01:47.49]and loose obedience to a vegetable law.

[01:52.04]I will not go.

[01:54.45]Prefer a feast of friends to the giant family.



[02:06.34]M.V.A.

M.V.A.



