interpreting The Doors--Horse Latitudes

[EXTRAPOLATER]

I can usually develop some decent interpretations of lyrics, regardless of ambiguity (which I actually love), but I've never quite gotten this one.


When the still sea conspires in armor
And her sullen and aborted
Currents breed tiny monsters
True sailing is dead

Awkward instant
And the first animal is jettisoned
Legs furiously pumping
Their stiff green gallop

And heads bob up
Poise, delicate, pause, consent
In mute nostril agony
Carefully refined and sealed over.


Maybe someone has read a Doors bio or something.
I can't get this no matter what space my head is in.

Mind alteration is IN.
I guess that Jimmy M. would've agreed with that.

 

[spartan]

could it be those terrifying sea horses :mj08: :mj03:

 

[IntenseOperator]

this guy might know....

http://digg.com/general_sciences/Albert_Hofmann_inventor_of_LSD_dies

but he's now he's dead to

at least he didn't OD

 

[Morris]

Morrisson was a talented man.. no telling how he would have affected the music world if he hadn't passed....

 

[IntenseOperator]

Morrisson was a talented man.. no telling how he would have affected the music world if he hadn't passed....

drug addicts, regardless of talent, are destined for 1 thing......

to assume room temperature as soon as they can

 

[EXTRAPOLATER]

homeostasis?

I never thought of that, IO.
Interesting interpretation.

Perhaps the still sea is in each of us.

 

[IntenseOperator]

Next, enter the twisted and unruly world of Horse Latitudes. Would we even call this a song, or more of a demented poem with crazy effects that make Jim sound like he?s dying? ?When the still sea conspires an armor and her sullen and aborted. Currents breed tiny monsters. True sailing is dead. Awkward instant, and the first animal is jettisoned. Legs furiously pumping. Their stiff green gallop. And heads bob up. Poise, Delicate, Pause, Consent. In mute nostril agony, carefully refined. And sealed over.? As the poem grows deeper, a menacing effect takes over that eventually swallows the song.

 

[Morris]

drug addicts, regardless of talent, are destined for 1 thing......

to assume room temperature as soon as they can

Could be Mr. Hofmann was on the brink of discovery after all of his 102 years.

 

[EXTRAPOLATER]

hey, Intense

Hopefully you make more valuable contributions to your family.
Certainly no shortage of onions, if you consider them just that.

 

[IntenseOperator]

Next, enter the twisted and unruly world of Horse Latitudes. Would we even call this a song, or more of a demented poem with crazy effects that make Jim sound like he?s dying? ?When the still sea conspires an armor and her sullen and aborted. Currents breed tiny monsters. True sailing is dead. Awkward instant, and the first animal is jettisoned. Legs furiously pumping. Their stiff green gallop. And heads bob up. Poise, Delicate, Pause, Consent. In mute nostril agony, carefully refined. And sealed over.? As the poem grows deeper, a menacing effect takes over that eventually swallows the song.

got this take on the song from off the net with a simple search :shrug: not my words

gl on your next introspective question

and more importantly, bases

 

[IntenseOperator]

http://www.sputnikmusic.com/album.php?reviewid=9595

 

[no pepper]

I think some of his lyrics are just him having fun with words. Maybe he would do a "J" (as the dude would say) and just write down random, sporadic thoughts. You may go crazy trying to find true meanings or hidden messages in some of their stuff. I always liked the Soft Parade. A sampling of those lyrics:

When I was back there in seminary school
There was a person there
Who put forth the proposition
That you can petition the Lord with prayer?
Petition the Lord with prayer?
Petition the Lord with prayer?
You cannot petition the Lord with prayer!

Can you give me sanctuary?
I must find a place to hide,
A place for me to hide.

Can you find me soft asylum?
I can't make it anymore
The Man is at the door.

Peppermint, miniskirts, chocolate candy,
Champion sax and a girl named Sandy
There's only four ways to get unraveled ?
One is to sleep and the other is travel at dawn.
One is a bandit up in the hills,
One is to love your neighbor till
His wife gets home.

Catacombs,
Nursery bones,
Winter women
Growing stones,
Carrying babies
To the river;
Streets and shoes,
Avenues,
Leather riders
Selling news,
The monk bought Lunch.

He he he, he bought a little.
Yes, he did
Woo!

This is the best part of the trip.
This is the trip, the best part
I really like it.

Why were the women carrying babies to the river? To bathe them, or to drown them?