Every gum-chewing lout

Thinks I'm just hiding out;

Why, it's—almost like being alive.

 

Though I'm laid to my rest

With a stone on my chest,

Why, it's—almost like being alive.

 

Any fool with a brain in his head

Ought to know now that Elvis is dead.

 

Death notwithstanding, I'm pissed

That the morons persist

In the hare-brained illusion

That I'm "just in seclusion"—

It's almost like being alive.