Is this all I am able to give: This pleasant view for the beholder This pleasant sound for those who wish to hear.
Am I just the fingers that clasp around the other glass of wine at your table Am I just the number to add weight to the crowd Am I but the silent partner The pen to paper The background music And the ticket sold
You've been dead for the same amount of time that you lived, forty-two years. You were loved and your death devastated each and every one of your peers. You didn't perform in all fifty states, one state that you missed was Montana. You performed your last concert on June 26, 1977 in the state of Indiana. Two of your hit songs were 'All Shook Up' and 'Hound Dog'. You had great taste in motorcycles, you sure did love Hogs. You had a wonderful life but not a life that was long. When doctors constantly prescribed those pills, it was wrong. You loved to give away Cadillacs, you truly had a heart of gold. It was very sad to lose you when you were only 42 years old. One of your friends saw you putting a hole in your foot with a drill. When he asked you why, you said you were doing it to get more pills. When you died on August 16, 1977, every one of your fans were in tears. You've been dead for the same amount of time that you lived, forty-two years.
DEDICATED TO ELVIS A. PRESLEY (1935-1977) WHO DIED ON AUGUST 16, 1977.
I’m the entertainer, So nobody will touch me. The truth be told They don’t think much of me. I’m paid to be here Not like the shimmering guests. They take their pay in champagne And believe they’re better than the rest.
I perform for them, smiling, I show them a happy face, And do my very best to make An evening they’ll never replace. I make music and joy all night And make sure to be grateful If someone leaves a tip in the jar. Maybe tonight will be fateful.
But probably I’ll go home Alone and completely forgotten. They’re a beautiful basket of fruit, But too many have gone rotten. It’s not that they are evil people, It’s just that they don’t care. I am the background music Doing something, somewhere.
It makes perfect sense to me, They didn’t come here for this; To revel in the brilliance I will show. They’ll never know what they miss. They won’t even notice it Unless there’s a song they really love. It’s almost performing for myself And letting my talent rise above.
So, I perform for them, smiling, I show them a happy face, And do my very best to make An evening they’ll never replace. I make music and joy all night And make sure to be grateful If someone leaves a tip in the jar. Maybe tonight will be fateful.
What a dashing figure, shirt unbuttoned halfway as he delivered his lines with grace. However, this is not a gay man’s appraisal of another man’s handsome face, but a straight and secure observation, a poet’s reflection informed by the actor’s performance.
Tonight I get to do what I was meant to do To be who I was meant to be And although every eyeball in every line of sight may be fixated on me For an hour or so That doesn’t change the fact that I Was meant to step out this stage and to bend like a bow As I did in the days of old Such talent is still stretched within me That I should perform, and that I should play, most doggedly Until the finely threaded twine within my mind begins to unwind And I am straight as an arrow hence Laying on the table before, how I once had said That I hope I can return once more for that again But not for this I said Not for this
Sometimes you need to stop before you can keep going. *nod nod*