In all my dreams I see the face of Elvis,
when he was pretty as a girl. O Elvis,
why did you have to age? A song by Elvis
is always playing in my head, since Elvis
first came into my life—my blue-eyed Elvis.
I tried to sing just like my idol Elvis,
but soon was told I sound not much like Elvis.
I paid for surgeries to look like Elvis,
but soon was told I look too much like Elvis.
I take my wife to bed, dressed up as Elvis,
and pleasure her with hips that move like Elvis.
She soon cries out the lovely name of Elvis.
During all this she wears a mask of Elvis.
I weep when she takes off the mask of Elvis,
the act implicitly insulting Elvis.
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