Jim Morrison's Grave

[Image: 'I Predict 1990' Front Cover]

Sections:

Lyrics

Am I a pilgrim
Or another souvenir hound
In the city of lights
I set my sights
On a king's domain

It was a manhole
Dug over at the edge of town
And a spray can scrawl
On the cemetery wall
Said, "You'd better behave"

Jim Morrison's grave
Jim Morrison's grave

It's getting cold here
And there ain't a lizard in sight
Did the end begin
When you shed your skin
In the home of the brave

Somebody shake him
From the land of larger than life
Where the remnants warn
Of a legend born
In a dead man's cave

Jim Morrison's grave
Jim Morrison's grave
Jim Morrison's grave

I stay driven 'cause there's nowhere to park
I can't shut my eyes--I'm afraid of the dark
I lie awake
That stone left me chilled to the bone
Sound the alarm before it's done
Find Jim Morrison

Come away to Paris
Let him see another day
Let him fade out slowly
Only fools burn away
Let a true love show him what a heart can become
Somebody find Jim Morrison

Find Jim Morrison's grave
Jim Morrison's grave

I get weary
Lord, I don't understand
How does a seed get strangled in the heart of a man
Then the music covers like an evening mist
Like a watch still ticking on a dead man's wrist
Tick away

Recorded Appearances

Albums

Singles

Promos

Bootlegs

About The Song

From Clone Club News Flash Winter 1988, Winter 1988:

The idea started a couple of years ago when I went to Paris and visited Jim Morrison's grave. The experience made me think a lot about who Jim Morrison was and what he stood for. I was into The Doors' music and read a biography of Morrison called, No One Here Gets Out Alive. As I read the book, a picture emerged of Jim Morrison as someone who embraced the Rock-n-Roll myth, "It's better to burn out than to fade away."

I guess he thought of himself as somewhat of a "tortured artist" who not only believe that genius justifies cruelty but that genius and selfishness are inseparable. And that's really how he lived his life. He was very cruel to the people who were close to him, even the people who loved him. So this song is just my thought about going to the grave, almost a stream-of-consciousness lyric.

"Jim Morrison's Grave" asks the age-old question: Does artistry justify being a weasel? The last line of the song is, "The music covers like an evening mist/Like a watch still ticking on a dead man's wrist." Morrison left the world some intriguing music. As far as I'm concerned, that's not enough.

From Now The Truth Can Be Told Liner Notes & Song-By-Song Essays, Now The Truth Can Be Told Insert Booklet, August 23rd, 1994:

A stream-of-consciousness graveside meditation on the folly of dead-rock- star worship, and speaking of Kurt Cobain--who was, I think, far more honest and far less cruel--when anyone takes an unblinking look into the well, if they don't find living water, they'll find nothing but a black hole. I assume Kurt Cobain could only see the latter.

Some wonder what causes so many people to commit suicide. I wonder what causes so many people not to. Everyday I'm convinced afresh that apart from God, nothing makes sense.