Jim Morrison’s grave

Jim Morrison never wanted the music to stop, and it hasn't.

At his grave site in the Pere Lachaise cemetery in east Paris, his voice wails through the autumn air from a tinny cassette player. A crowd gathers every day for a strange and quiet vigil. There are aging hippies drinking from wine bottles, Euro-teens with blank young faces nodding to the lyrics and, on this day, a couple from St. Louis watching bemusedly and wondering what all the fuss is about.

This is nothing the cemetery planned -- or wanted. This is pure rock idolatry, a following that has spawned graffiti on neighboring tombstones that is so dense that cemetery officials have to blast it off every two weeks. The scrawlings, in many languages, begin appearing at the bottom of the hill leading to the grave, long before the tomb is in sight.

"Jim is resting. Leave him alone." "Jim the last trip is the best." "Wait for me Jim. I'm coming." And the most definitive of epitaphs: "This is the end."

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Retrieved on 21 December 2018 from

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