Jim Morrison, The Doors - Curses, Invocations Lyrics

Curses, invocations
Weird bate-headed mongrels
I keep expecting one of you to rise

Large buxom, obese queens
Garden hogs and cunt veterans
Quaint cabbage saints
Shit hoarders and individualists
Drag strip officials

Tight lipped losers
And lustful fuck salesman
My militant dandies
All strange orders of monsters
Hot on the tail of the woodvine
We welcome you to our procession

Here come the comedians
Look at them smile
Watch them dance an Indian mile
Look at them gesture
How aplomb
So to gesture everyone

Words dissemble
Words be quick
Words resemble walking sticks
Plant them, they will grow
Watch them waver so
I'll always be a word man
Better then a bird man