Dawn's Highway
Composer(s): Jim Morrison
Performer(s): The Doors



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