| When Elvis Presley died we were curious |
| We all knew he was something |
| If a bit mysterious |
| And your mom watched over you sleeping |
| Down from the pages of a girlie magazine |
| I dragged my paisley suitcase |
| Up all those hundred stairs |
| She said my Hollyberry’s always welcome here |
| And your daddy smashed up the Porsche |
| And painted the alley with broken oxblood 2x4s for no reason |
| She used to date the king |
| They probably did it and everything |
| She doesn’t walk too well since the stroke |
| But she can sure tell a dirty joke |
| And your mom watched over you sleeping |
| Down from the pages of a girlie magazine |
| And your daddy smashed up the Porsche |
| And painted the alley |