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Jim Morrison didn’t leap off the page for me when I saw him at London’s Roundhouse in 1968. There were many reasons, all perfectly valid, that might—in a different view—classify under “Opinions are like…. everyone has one.” But for whatever reason that night, I didn’t get it.
“Five to one, baby, one to five. No one here gets out alive.” He didn’t. Nor, as he said, will any of us. It is a line for a young poet, which he wanted to be, a little out of step with the sixties. Morrison held, arguably a longer view. If your words live after you, I think it is fair to say you have succeeded in life.