About the song
Background
- Original Poem: “A Feast of Friends” started as a poem by Jim Morrison but was never published within his official poetry collections.
- An American Prayer: This piece was posthumously included on the 1978 album “An American Prayer.” The Doors set music to Morrison’s spoken-word performance of the poem.
- Controversy: Some fans believe “A Feast of Friends” was originally titled “The Severed Garden” and that the title and musical arrangement were handled by the remaining Doors members without Morrison’s input. Others maintain the title has always been “A Feast of Friends.”
Lyrics
A portion of the lyrics is below. You can find the full text on lyric sites:
Wow, I’m sick of doubt Live in the light of certain South Cruel bindings The servants have the power … I will not go Prefer a Feast of Friends To the Giant Family
Themes
- Dissatisfaction with the Mundane: Morrison expresses fatigue with doubt and a yearning for a more certain, fulfilling existence. He critiques societal power structures (“servants have the power”).
- Mortality and Transformation: References to death and a “severed garden” abound. Morrison seems to find death fascinating while acknowledging its inevitability.
- Rejection of Tradition: Morrison speaks against a “Giant Family,” possibly symbolizing traditional values or social order. He prefers the intimacy of “a Feast of Friends.”
- Existentialism: The poem reflects the loneliness and searching often found in existentialist works. Morrison seeks meaning and authenticity in a world he sees as empty.
Additional Notes
The lyrics are dense with imagery and open to interpretation. Fans continue to analyze and debate the poem’s precise meaning. That mysterious quality has made it one of Morrison’s most enduring works.
Video
Lyrics
Wow, I’m sick of doubtLive in the light of certain southCruel bindingsThe servants have the powerDog-men and their mean womenPulling poor blankets over our sailors
I’m sick of dour facesStaring at me from the TV towerI want roses in my garden bowerDig?
Royal babies, rubiesMust now replace aborted strangers in the mudThese mutants, blood-meal for the plant that’s plowed
They are waiting to take us into the severed gardenDo you know how pale and wanton thrillfulComes death on a strange hourUnannounced, unplanned forLike a scaring over-friendly guest you’ve brought to bed
Death makes angels of us allAnd gives us wingsWhere we had shouldersSmooth as raven’s claws
No more money, no more fancy dressThis other kingdom seems by far the bestUntil its other jaw reveals incestAnd loose obedience to a vegetable law
I will not goPrefer a feast of friendsTo the giant family