A Tribue to Jim Morrison

He wanted fame from childhood on,
To be a Rock King and sing a song.

But the demon in his beating heart,
Urged him to play a witches art.

The demon seed grew to fruition,
It lit his soul to seek perdition.

He used peyote to find a sought for vision,
And drank to oblivion in order to fulfill his ambition.

It was an era of love and peace,
He only found a dark release.

He was a flaming star that streaked so bright
There were his adoring fans that first saw his light,

As he fell down to earth from his selfish desire,
He left us as he burned up in his flaming pyre.

His persona was of an indian sage,
His lyrics were for a warring age.

We honor his music as do the masses,
But this child of song left much sadness.

Pain and hurt were his master,
Now he is gone, a prologue of disaster.

Mojo Rising For Jim

James Garrett, Jr.