deepundergroundpoetry.com

Elvis & heartbreak

Graceland was never his true home.
he�s in the penthouse suite,
� � �where the ghosts of the broken roam.

the crowds are thick on lonely street
marching in time to heartbreak�s beat.

my steel guitar sings a mournful sound
they judged me a killer
� � �but the corpse wasn�t found.

released from the hollows of jailhouse rock
they welcome me here, on this lonely block.

my window is marked by the Tennessee rain
my soul bums a ride on a Memphis train.

my heart�s still chained to a long gone lover
so hold me, Elvis

� � ��just hold me, brother.