Lyrics: Underground Blues for Jim Morrison Red moon and on the radio a precise melody projects your demonized arpeggios old Jim Morrison you arch your waist the sensuality of your lips and between filters of peyote and glasses of burning water you go dangerously head towards the end You light the cigarette and raise a glass of wine Make a toast for yourself, for Blake, For Poe, your dark ghosts - the misled glance the dry moan nobody understands the emaciated howl that brakes the sky into pieces the treasonous death dancing over your body the naked solitude in the middle of the scene the Indian dance the announced suicide giving in each concert your fuller agony king of the lizards. © Leo Zelada Poem translated by Andy Quiñones
