*************Ode To Elvis***************Movin' and groovin' and thrustin' his hips.
smackerin' and puckerin' and curlin' those lips,
kickin' and shakin' and smokin' the floor,
his hair slicked back in a pompador.
His bellbottoms flared, his rhynstones gleamed.
He belched out his songs as the audience screamed.
His pelvis would gyrate while doing the kick,
fans loved it, it made me sick.
He lived his life for rock and roll
until narcotics took over his soul.
With velcro for sideburns and more than one chin,
he sat on his ass drinking vodka and gin.
The day finally came when he took his last breath,
because of the drugs, he plunged to his death.
Well sure he could dance and sure he could sing,
but how can you call such a weak man "The King?"
Kristin Hagen
None.
