Elvis,
Yes, Elvis!
You walk the street in your army surplus camouflage gear
And all that holds you to hope is a name -
Not any name,
But Elvis.
Now this is the strange thing, Elvis,
That actually you’re not the only Elvis,
But one of many the same,
A little lost, a little confused,
No home yet
And dreams and ambitions beyond your reality.
And so you find a name to cling to.
I have respect for you,
But a cautious respect,
Because the volcano of instability that is YOU
Hides behind the Man’s name,
Ready to nail me with a fist
When the Man has gone -
And he goes when you’re questioned too deeply,
When you feel threatened,
When the ego behind the mask can no longer hold the heavy weight
Of pretend.
Poor Elvis.
