Awake
The Doors Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning | Line by Line Meaning
Is everybody in?
Is everybody in?
The ceremony is about to begin.
Wake up!
You can't remember where it was
Had this dream stopped?
The opening lines of The Doors' song "Awake" give off an eerie vibe, as if something ominous is about to happen. The repeated question "Is everybody in?" implies that something is expected of those who are present, and the use of the word "ceremony" suggests a formal, possibly even ritualistic event is about to unfold. The line "The ceremony is about to begin" reinforces this idea, leaving listeners with a sense of anticipation and unease.
The second part of the lyrics "Wake up!" reinforces the feeling of discomfort, as if the listener is being snapped out of a trance or shaken awake by the urgency of the song's message. The line "You can't remember where it was" suggests some kind of disorientation or loss of memory, adding to the unsettling vibes of the song. Finally, the question "Had this dream stopped?" hints at the possibility that the situation described in the song is not entirely real, adding another layer of ambiguity and uncertainty to the lyrics.
Line by Line Meaning
Is everybody in?
Has everyone arrived and is present for what's about to happen?
Is everybody in?
Is everyone now fully aware and awake to what's about to happen?
Is everybody in?
Has everyone made a conscious choice to be part of this ceremony?
The ceremony is about to begin.
The formal, structured event is immediately forthcoming.
Wake up!
Become aware, conscious, and present in this moment.
You can't remember where it was
You're unable to recall your original state or location.
Had this dream stopped?
Has this state of confusion, uncertainty, or unreality come to an end?
Lyrics © Wixen Music Publishing
Written by: Ray Manzarek, Jim Morrison, Robby Krieger, John Densmore
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
Phikria Jgarkava
Shake dreams from your hair
My pretty child, my sweet one.
Choose the day and 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 wooly 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.
Jane Flores
"Sacuda os sonhos do seu cabelo
Minha linda criança, minha querida.
Escolha o dia e escolha o sinal do seu dia
A divindade do dia
Primeira coisa que você vê.
A vasta e radiante praia na fria jóia lua
Casais nus correm tranquilamente
E nós rimos suavemente, crianças loucas
Cheias de si no cérebro de algodão da infância
A música e as vozes ao nosso redor
Escolha eles sussurrando os antigos
Aquele tempo veio outra vez
Escolha agora, eles sussurram
Sob a lua
Ao lado do antigo lago
Entre outra vez na doce floresta
Entre no quente sonho
Venha com a gente
Tudo se rompe e dança."
Theda Love
My 18 - yr. - old Poet's wake - up
Poem (not working yet ToDay - must play it louder for him)
Hablo español e inglés - espero que me entiendes. Es el poema más importante para mí hijo, especialmente por las mañanas - pero todavía no se despierta!!
Nunca oí Jim y los Doors cuando viví esta Vida, pero me parece él siempre ha estado conmigo ....
Nadie, ningún Poética ha tocado a mi Vida cómo
James Douglas Morrison, y he leído TANTO. Escribo, y a veces, veo la cara, o siento el alma de el genio ....
"Awake," todo el mundo!! Que aprendíamos las lecciones, las Verdades de Jim - él supo lo que iba a pasar a nuestro mundo, y nos
trató de ayudarnos caminar la jornada hacia un mundo mejor ....
💓PazAmorSonrisasMusica💓
💓PeaceLoveSmilesMusic💓
Su hermana
Your sister
cathy struska
Here's a mystical poem
Ghost Light
Idle wind through a field,
Turning silent in dusk.
Pale moon, alabaster in
Your presence,
A ghost passing through
Sudden stillness
Under an old Juniper,
Leaves browned in patchwork of a too dry
Summer. Sweet the mist
In the meadow.
Cool and damp,
A first frost
Not far behind.
One time-frame passing
To the other. Nothing
On an elliptical stopwatch,
Just a revolution of
One world spinning 360.
Eons but a lash
Falling to the floor.
Dear moon- you look
Rather drawn-
With the dark circles
Under your eyes.
Though your smile says
Your up for the night.
Truly an undertaking,
If you don't mind me
Saying so.. I've got to admit your fetching.
Though I'm taking the ludicrous to the arcane.
The frogs are rising
To the night.
What I want is a
Tilt A Whirl At the carnival
On the edge of town.
In the first cool of October
With the beakers and
The House Of Mirrors.
As the Tilt A Whirl spins
We laugh at circles
Of reds and blues.
As the Hucksters and the lost cling to the carny
Like a parasite.
And the carnival rolls
From town as quick
As it came, with a few
Extra wallets and one
Virginity. And I hear the
Trains in the distance
When the wind blows
North. I hear it
Mostly in the fall.
I saw them play the
Shell game in the
Bare bulbs near
The shadows.
My eyes fill
With the darkness.
A whistle falls away dreaming.
By TJ STRUSKA
cathy struska
A solitary poem
Two Solitary Souls
Stale beer cup/brand new bottle opener on a blue May evening. Cessna's and Cub's circle like drones with no map or meaning.
In this settled night, this stillness, a lone boy bounces a croquet mallet:
Tocka, Tocka, Tocka, the ball, the court, the mallet: Tocka, Tocka, Tocka, until he tires of this solitary habit. Him with his mallet,
Me with my pen.
Now and again, he seats it like a baseball. Across the court, into the fence.
Both of us left to silence after. Soon I hear: Tocka, Tocka, Tocka, as he retrieves his ball from the corner. Tocka, Tocka, Tocka, As I strain for words like a sad ape obsessed with a flea,
And finding none.
Soon the solitary boy with the ball leaves the courtyard to it's silence.
Its a isolated moment in
The American Fabric.
Into the mask of
Light and Shadow,
Shadow and Imagination.
A playwright, looking for a chorus, a melody. Summer silence and the race of engines. And voices overtake the silence
In the hours from ten til one. And the tires and the arguing. And sometimes the cops, or an ambulance
With bored fireman
And two paramedics.
And there's a drip in the hallway from the roof.
I guess it's not bewitching;
All the noise for those pockets of silence.
And I play Brahms,
And police turn down
My block. As the moon lurks pale behind my eyes.
By TJ STRUSKA
cathy struska
Sort of a psychedelic poem
Charge Up, Change Up,
Fuck Up, Forget It.
Somewhere Timothy Leary Found his smile In
Blue horizons I cannot name. Charge Up the
Dark horses dragging up
Vega. I know it's far,
But the Pony Express
Said No Problem..
Out here you bring Your
Own lunch. Best pack
For the long trip back.
Knapsack spilling with stars, Each one falling
Like lover's cloths To
Dusty corners we dream.
We awake as ghosts
Searching the inner ring.
Man, it got old around
Ginsberg. Staffing the pipe
For young strumpets.
You throw the Change Up
While the girl In the
Coke bottle red dress
Says were going dancing,
You, me and the stars.
Take in the mail on
The long flight up.
I hear ghosts In my head.
They find their way
Across the page.
Exact fare required for
The 715 across town.
Fuck Up, you ride
With the winos
And heads to the
End of the line.
With steel toe jackers
Overturning cars In
The mayhem.O well,
At least were plugged into the starlight convention
Playing above Nissans and Subarus. I forgot
To say hi to Alpha Sentory
As I shot in From
Inner space.
Well, I must admit It's ingenious.
While the night circles Neptune in the spot
Of the sun.
By TJ STRUSKA
cathy struska
Here's a real life poem when I was 16. Funny and true.
Get Off The Couch Before There's An Accident. You Know It's Reserved For My
Mother And The Dog.
It ain't lunch, it's my life,
Some pointed remark
In front of a friend,
And it stuck.
And my friend said
"Dude, what's your Ma's
Problem?"
And I said " Me".
And he said it was weird,
And I agreed.
And I was a captive stranger in the middle
Of this saga.
It was terse, a flimsy repose in our company.
My Dad rode her train,
And I most times
I got the stiff rebuttal.
And I was 16, and it
Sounded blase' to me.
But I didn't know shit either
Mostly listen to Hendrix,
Get stoned before school.
While inside it wasn't
Like that at all.
It was more a reflection,
A stirring in a pool.
Light dancing along
The edge of waking.
Definitely Fringe Dude.
Get off the couch Son,
That's reserved for the
Big Shot of the family.
Light burning black and glowing through the window. I'd crawl out
To the night.
Run the woods looking
For love slipping away.
And the rock n roll
Spiking my head.
And I'm smoking
And I'm holding.
And I'm a punk
And I know it.
And I'd slide out the door
With the LOOK from her.
And what I'd find was
Mostly an even keel
Of boredom.
A little pick up ball,
Maybe a joint down
The woods by
The bridge.
Mostly stupid shit,
Until I met Cathy.
And the levels changed
From green to red.
And the being
Of skin together.
Shadows and smells
Along a river of love.
500 miles long
Cresting to an ocean.
And the crest rose
Crashing against the rocks
And I wake to shiny pebbles.
I'm wet and naked.
I move toward
The moonlight,
Following it's sound.
The night opens
Like a flower.
By TJ STRUSKA
Christmas night 2004.
cathy struska
Here's one in real time as Rita was tearing up the Gulf Coast.
When Nothing Works Right
And All You Have Is
Your Pen
I listen to Janis Joplin as the storm slams Port Author Texas. Home of Janis and my Great Aunt and Uncle. Where I spent the better part of two summers, Right about the time Janis peaked, A few years before she kissed the bottle of Comfort for the last time. It ain't there yet, Janis is, the hurricane I mean, so is my Great Aunt Billie and Uncle H.A.
Moved up to high ground with their children and their children's children.
We talked on the phone, not Janis, my Great Aunt and Uncle that is.. How I got off Janis is anyone's guess. How I got off red meat was easy. How do I break this poem of it's ala Dijon Whatever? You'll find it in the city, along trumped up Old Town in the Blue Mesa dream.
And Janis stops in her tracks. Rita doesn't" just batters the city with rain.
I fed the quarters in the box, by God. And Janis doesn't do it for me. From the same town as Billie and H.A., and that's about all. Though I heard from Melody( 2nd cousin) that Majority(older cousin) had a class or two with Janis(who doesn't do it for me) while Rita speaks another language. And I wonder of gridlock, and best to get out of Dodge. At least Beaumont.
I know I'll hear the dire news soon enough, get the latest from damage control. Well that's about the two songs on the box. At least they didn't skip.
Just this old psychedelic Texas two step pouring sea salt in the air. As night falls steamy on a Texas port along way from home.
( For my Texas family)
Sep 23 05 10 p.m. CST.
By TJ STRUSKA
Chris Byars
This is my ‘go-to’ - song when I am experiencing insomnia. And it calms me down
Okean
Jim Morrison was, first and foremost, a superb poet.
Theda Love
Oh, yes, indeed!! I believe he put pen to paper and it was all there. I missed him in this LifeTime, (I miss him NOW!!) but I feel I have never been without him, my Muse!!
💓PeaceLoveSmilesMusic💓
Your sister
Dillon Lovette
Jim did what none of my teachers could ever do and that was to inspire too read and write
Hart Hendrix
Poetic Justice Those very words reciprocate into my soul as that very reason is why I've taken an interest in the literary arts.
Robert Cabrera
1917 j
carrollingJim
I was supposed to become a straight computer scientist...until the Doors greatest hits fell into my hands, so I agree with you. I was 14 by then and from there to 20 I read an awful lot and started digging poetry bigTime. Kudos to him.
Paul Blowes
@J. F.R., I'm 1977 but your story interests me enough to enquire about the substance and style of it, labelled as a felow writer myself I'd love to hear more. PSB77
Paul Blowes
@carrollingJim, I can relate to that fact, the doors came into my adolescence at 14 and forever changed the lane of my life. We are sons of the lizard king and therefore we can accomplish ANYTHING. PsB77
Phikria Jgarkava
Shake dreams from your hair
My pretty child, my sweet one.
Choose the day and 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 wooly 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.