"End of the Night" - best song ever written?

[Jer]

So Morrison ripped off Bill Blake a bit - who hasn't?

This is a great song to get psyched for a night of flyfishing on smack.

[skifishbum]

I always felt the Soft Parade was his best work, but Weird Scenes Inside the Gold Mine is my favorite album.

[pappag]

If we're talking Doors, "The End " gets the nod. Otherwise, I'm going with "Wish You Were Here".

[Steven S. Dallas]

The Doors are just slightly ahead of The Eagles on my do-not-listen list.

[board]

I can appreciate the Doors for what they contributed to the whole of pop culture and Morrison’s willingness to push peoples buttons but they are just short of unlistenable to me; however if I am in my car, the weather is overcast, I am high and going further than say the grocery store I might not turn off "riders on the storm" after I check a couple other stations. Honestly it's that organ that really turns me off.

[Tippster]

...Weird Scenes Inside the Gold Mine is my favorite album.

The day I found this record in my parent's collection was the day i realized that maybe they weren't born boring and middle-aged.

That said, i have since lowered my estimation of Mr. Morrison's "genius."

[twodogs]

[AsheanMT]

My inner drunk has been know to become fully possessed by the dionysian demi god himself. I'm not gonna talk about my inner drunk too much. I've managed to keep him "at bay" for a couple of years now. He's a krazy mthfkr! Lets just leave it at that.

[Adolf Allerbush]

Best ever? Not in my opinion. Still a great tune though.

[MarsB]

The Doors are just slightly ahead of The Eagles on my do-not-listen list.

I'll see your Eagles and raise you The Steve Miller Band.



[glances furtively at his Jimmy Buffet trump card]

[powpig]

Maybe Still of the Night.

[schindlerpiste]

Indians scattered on dawn's highway bleeding
Ghosts crowd the young child's fragile eggshell mind.

Me and my -ah- mother and father - and a
grandmother and a grandfather - were driving through
the desert, at dawn, and a truck load of Indian
workers had either hit another car, or just - I don't
know what happened - but there were Indians scattered
all over the highway, bleeding to death.

So the car pulls up and stops. That was the first time
I tasted fear. I musta' been about four - like a child is
like a flower, his head is just floating in the
breeze, man.
The reaction I get now thinking about it, looking
back - is that the souls of the ghosts of those dead
Indians...maybe one or two of 'em...were just
running around freaking out, and just leaped into my
soul. And they're still in there.
Indians scattered on dawn's highway bleeding
Ghosts crowd the young child's fragile eggshell mind.

Blood in the streets in the town of New Haven
Blood stains the roofs and the palm trees of Venice
Blood in my love in the terrible summer
Bloody red sun of Phantastic L.A.

Blood screams her brain as they chop off her fingers
Blood will be born in the birth if a nation
Blood is the rose of mysterious union
Blood on the rise, it's following me.

Indian, Indian what did you die for?
Indian says, nothing at all.




Classic shit, mang!