| Midnight at Graceland in '72
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| Shooting TVs with groupies in the Jungle Room
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| A little fame and fortune was all he had left
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| They dug his grave by the kitchen door
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| And millions of blue-haired ladies took the guided tour
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| His Chinese fan club came over on a boat
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| And took pictures at his birthplace in Tupelo
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| Some disappear, they drop out of sight
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| Some stay too long and get crucified
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| Whoa this world ain’t no place to be
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| When you’re larger than life, ohhh even heroes die
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| Over on the poor side of Birmingham
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| He was preaching on the corner but nobody gave a damn
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| Except a couple hookers and a homeless man
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| A dozen losers Were his best friends
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| At the church across the street, they were raising hell
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| They said if he is a man of God, why do his old clothes smell
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| They ran him out of town for disturbing the peace
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| He died on a shelter cot in his sleep
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| Some disappear, they drop out of sight
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| Some stay too long and get crucified
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| Whoa this world ain’t no place to be
|
| When you’re larger than life, ohhh even heroes die
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| Whoa, even heroes die
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| Whoa, even heroes die |