| Ginger Elvis Presley
 | 
| Looked a fraction sad
 | 
| Roaming the whole town
 | 
| From bin to bin
 | 
| Well, living on the streets
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| Wasn’t all that bad
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| Where no one seemed to know
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| That he was King
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| The sound of New York City
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| Isn’t police sirens wailing
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| It’s the sound of Wall Street tills
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| Whilst everyone else is failing
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| Sometimes you feel expensive
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| Sometimes you feel so cheap
 | 
| You can roam the streets a king
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| Whilst everyone’s asleep
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| You can mime to any record
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| With a hairbrush or a spoon
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| But God help the singer
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| Out of tune
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| A crippled Mohammad Ali
 | 
| Looked at bad luck in the mirror
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| Bad luck looked back at him
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| And sighed
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| He looked a good foot smaller
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| And a couple of stone thinner
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| And if anyone came toward him
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| He would hide
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| The sound of North America
 | 
| Isn’t Christians quietly praying
 | 
| It’s the sound of shuffling feet
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| That don’t know where they’re staying
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| Sometimes you feel expensive
 | 
| Sometimes you feel so cheap
 | 
| You can roam the streets a king
 | 
| Whilst everyone’s asleep
 | 
| You can fight with anybody
 | 
| With a glimmer of a chance
 | 
| But God help the boxer
 | 
| With no hands
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| A homeless Greta Garbo
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| Moves across the street
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| The moonlight shining clearly
 | 
| Through her skirt
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| A real life living legend
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| That no one wants to meet
 | 
| And that’s when being Garbo
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| Really hurts
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| The lyrics of 'New York'
 | 
| May have Frank Sinatra singing
 | 
| But the rhythm and the melody
 | 
| Were dead black men swinging
 | 
| Sometimes you feel expensive
 | 
| Sometimes you feel so cheap
 | 
| You can roam the streets a queen
 | 
| Whilst everyone’s asleep
 | 
| You can act with anybody
 | 
| From the cradle to the crypt
 | 
| But God help the actress
 | 
| Who doesn’t know the script |