The Soft Parade by Jim Morrison © Doors Music Company ASCAP 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.