| Song | The Ghost Song |
| Artist | The Doors |
| Album | The Doors Greatest Hits |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| AwakeShake dreams from your hair | |
| My pretty child, my sweet one | |
| Choose the day, choose the sign of your day | |
| The day’s divinity | |
| First thing you see | |
| A vast radiant beach in a cool jeweled moon | |
| Couples naked race down by it’s quiet side | |
| And we laugh like soft, mad children | |
| Smug in the woolly cotton brains of infancy | |
| The music and voices are all around us | |
| Choose they croon the ancient ones | |
| The time has come again | |
| Choose now, they croon | |
| Beneath the moon | |
| Beside an ancient lake | |
| Enter again the sweet forest | |
| Enter the hot dream | |
| Come with us | |
| Everything is broken up and dances | |
| Indians scattered, | |
| On darms highway bleeding | |
| Ghosts crowd the young child’s, | |
| Fragile eggshell mind | |
| We have assembled inside, | |
| This ancient and insane theater | |
| To propagate our lust for our life, | |
| And flee the swarming wisdom of the streets. | |
| The barns have stormed | |
| The windows kept, | |
| And only one of all the rest | |
| To dance and save us | |
| From the divine mockery of words, | |
| Music inflames temperament. | |
| Ooh great creator of being | |
| Grant us one more hour, | |
| To perform our art | |
| And perfect our lives. | |
| We need great golden copulation’s, | |
| When true kings murders | |
| Are allowed to roam free, | |
| A thousand musicians arise from the land | |
| Where are the feast we are promised? | |
| One more thing | |
| Thank you oh lord | |
| For the white blind light | |
| Thank you oh lord | |
| For the white blind light | |
| A city rises from the sea | |
| I had a splitting headache | |
| From witch the feature is maid |
| AwakeShake dreams from your hair | |
| My pretty child, my sweet one | |
| Choose the day, choose the sign of your day | |
| The day' s divinity | |
| First thing you see | |
| A vast radiant beach in a cool jeweled moon | |
| Couples naked race down by it' s quiet side | |
| And we laugh like soft, mad children | |
| Smug in the woolly cotton brains of infancy | |
| The music and voices are all around us | |
| Choose they croon the ancient ones | |
| The time has come again | |
| Choose now, they croon | |
| Beneath the moon | |
| Beside an ancient lake | |
| Enter again the sweet forest | |
| Enter the hot dream | |
| Come with us | |
| Everything is broken up and dances | |
| Indians scattered, | |
| On darms highway bleeding | |
| Ghosts crowd the young child' s, | |
| Fragile eggshell mind | |
| We have assembled inside, | |
| This ancient and insane theater | |
| To propagate our lust for our life, | |
| And flee the swarming wisdom of the streets. | |
| The barns have stormed | |
| The windows kept, | |
| And only one of all the rest | |
| To dance and save us | |
| From the divine mockery of words, | |
| Music inflames temperament. | |
| Ooh great creator of being | |
| Grant us one more hour, | |
| To perform our art | |
| And perfect our lives. | |
| We need great golden copulation' s, | |
| When true kings murders | |
| Are allowed to roam free, | |
| A thousand musicians arise from the land | |
| Where are the feast we are promised? | |
| One more thing | |
| Thank you oh lord | |
| For the white blind light | |
| Thank you oh lord | |
| For the white blind light | |
| A city rises from the sea | |
| I had a splitting headache | |
| From witch the feature is maid |
| AwakeShake dreams from your hair | |
| My pretty child, my sweet one | |
| Choose the day, choose the sign of your day | |
| The day' s divinity | |
| First thing you see | |
| A vast radiant beach in a cool jeweled moon | |
| Couples naked race down by it' s quiet side | |
| And we laugh like soft, mad children | |
| Smug in the woolly cotton brains of infancy | |
| The music and voices are all around us | |
| Choose they croon the ancient ones | |
| The time has come again | |
| Choose now, they croon | |
| Beneath the moon | |
| Beside an ancient lake | |
| Enter again the sweet forest | |
| Enter the hot dream | |
| Come with us | |
| Everything is broken up and dances | |
| Indians scattered, | |
| On darms highway bleeding | |
| Ghosts crowd the young child' s, | |
| Fragile eggshell mind | |
| We have assembled inside, | |
| This ancient and insane theater | |
| To propagate our lust for our life, | |
| And flee the swarming wisdom of the streets. | |
| The barns have stormed | |
| The windows kept, | |
| And only one of all the rest | |
| To dance and save us | |
| From the divine mockery of words, | |
| Music inflames temperament. | |
| Ooh great creator of being | |
| Grant us one more hour, | |
| To perform our art | |
| And perfect our lives. | |
| We need great golden copulation' s, | |
| When true kings murders | |
| Are allowed to roam free, | |
| A thousand musicians arise from the land | |
| Where are the feast we are promised? | |
| One more thing | |
| Thank you oh lord | |
| For the white blind light | |
| Thank you oh lord | |
| For the white blind light | |
| A city rises from the sea | |
| I had a splitting headache | |
| From witch the feature is maid |