I don’t have blue suede shoes
Or epileptic knees
Nor do I have side burns
Profusely running down my cheeks
I am no heartthrob or America’s favorite son
With bell-bottom pants and skyscraper hair
I’m just plain old Elvis – a lad from the south
Who at the brink of his summer
Found just enough beat in his heart
For a swan song of rock and roll
After all what the wretched heart needs
Is just a morsel of graceland
To build one home of love.


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