Happy Birthday Elvis - Live
Happy birthday, Elvis;
You're not really dead.
It's a lie, it's just a crock,
Something some people said.
I heard a cassette of you speaking
On a telephone;
From a bunker beneath Graceland,
The king sits on his throne.
Happy birthday, Elvis;
Fifty-eight years old today.
It isn't true, you didn't die,
No matter what they say.
The colonel just decided
You should drop out of sight
After the Bicentennial--
The timing was just right.
(Bridge:)
Happy birthday, Elvis;
You're alive in '93.
They took away the body,
But who the hell was he?
Who was that tall fat man
They buried in your place?
Just another imitator;
Plastic surgeons did his face.
Happy birthday, Elvis;
You still love to ball.
Somebody said she spotted you
In a Memphis mall.
Check out the checkout counters;
Read what the tabloids say:
Aliens abducted you,
But somehow you got away.
Happy birthday, Elvis;
I for one will not shed tears.
You'll be back for the millennium;
That's in seven measly years.
And if you're blue and lonely,
Pick up that telephone,
Down in that bunker beneath Graceland,
The king sits on his throne.
You're not really dead.
It's a lie, it's just a crock,
Something some people said.
I heard a cassette of you speaking
On a telephone;
From a bunker beneath Graceland,
The king sits on his throne.
Happy birthday, Elvis;
Fifty-eight years old today.
It isn't true, you didn't die,
No matter what they say.
The colonel just decided
You should drop out of sight
After the Bicentennial--
The timing was just right.
(Bridge:)
Happy birthday, Elvis;
You're alive in '93.
They took away the body,
But who the hell was he?
Who was that tall fat man
They buried in your place?
Just another imitator;
Plastic surgeons did his face.
Happy birthday, Elvis;
You still love to ball.
Somebody said she spotted you
In a Memphis mall.
Check out the checkout counters;
Read what the tabloids say:
Aliens abducted you,
But somehow you got away.
Happy birthday, Elvis;
I for one will not shed tears.
You'll be back for the millennium;
That's in seven measly years.
And if you're blue and lonely,
Pick up that telephone,
Down in that bunker beneath Graceland,
The king sits on his throne.
Credits
Writer(s): Loudon Wainwright
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.