Die Like Elvis

Oh, let me die like Elvis - 

Sitting on the bog, 

A burger in my left hand 

And another in my gob, 

A Tennessee fine bourbon 

Or a bottle of champagne, 

A cocktail of narcotics 

Coursing through my swollen veins. 


I wish to die like Elvis, 

Oh, it would be such a treat, 

My bum cheeks resting firmly 

On that Gracelands toilet seat, 

My penis dangling in the bowl 

Unhindered by erection, 

My great fat hairy arsehole 

Looking back on its reflection. 


I’ve got to die like Elvis. 

It’s the only way to go, 

Not like old Abe Lincoln 

Who got shot while at the show, 

Not like Jesus Christ our lord 

Who bled upon the cross, 

And not like Robert Maxwell 

’Bout whom no one gave a toss. 


Only Elvis knew the way to 

Exit from his stage, 

’Midst golden taps and porcelain, 

Not khaki, puce or beige. 

We all should die like Elvis 

In style and elogence. 

If I cannot die like Elvis then 

I’ll cark it in the Gents. 



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