The Doors- 'What A Long Strange Trip it's Been!"

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Lines of Powder, Trails of Smoke

From Medellín’s shadows to the neon haze,
Pablo’s empire rose in a furious blaze.
White lines carved highways to the promised land,
Changing the beat of America’s band.

Cocaine whispers in smoky rooms,
Fueling dreams, igniting doom.
JJ’s chords strummed a warning refrain,
But the glittering snow fell just the same.

“Coming into Los Angeles,” Arlo sang,
A suitcase full, the customs bell rang.
A new rush powered the countercultural stream,
Fast nights lived like a fevered dream.

Deadheads Truckin’ down the endless road,
Grateful grooves lightened the load.
Yet powder laced the winds of change,
Freedom and chaos rearranged.

Been down so long, The Doors intoned,
In every deal, the devil’s seed was sown.
Pleasure and peril in each hit, each high,
Living fast beneath a breaking sky.

The discos pulsed, the streetlights bled,
America danced while innocence fled.
The culture shifted, its veins burned bright,
As Pablo’s shadow swallowed the night.

Beneath the surface, a reckoning brewed,
A kingdom built on greed pursued.
But the echoes of those days remain,
In every song, in every vein.