The wages of sin is death.
Blood in the streets, the town of Chicago
Indians scattered on dawn's highway bleeding
Ghosts crowd the young child's fragile eggshell mind
Blood will be born in the birth of a nation
Blood is the rose of mysterious union
Blood in the streets, the town of Chicago
Blood on the rise, it's following me
Indians scattered on dawn’s highway bleeding
I may not be first to reply but I did not need Google to reply!
LP Doors/Morrison Hotel, track: Peace Frog sung by whats his name, lizard guy