"Happy birthday, Elvis;
You're not really dead.
It's a lie, it's just a crock,
Something some people said.
I heard a cassette of you speaking
On a telephone;
From a bunker beneath Graceland,
The king sits on his throne.
Happy birthday, Elvis;
Fifty-eight years old today.
It isn't true, you didn't die,
No matter what they say.
The colonel just decided
You should drop out of sight
After the Bicentennial
The timing was just right.
Happy birthday, Elvis;
You're alive in '93.
They took away the body,
But who the hell was he?
Who was that tall fat man
They buried in your place?
Just another imitator;
Plastic surgeons did his face.
Happy birthday, Elvis;
You still love to ball.
Somebody said she spotted you
In a Memphis mall.
Check out the checkout counters;
Read what the tabloids say:
Aliens abducted you,
But somehow you got away.
Happy birthday, Elvis;
I for one will not shed tears.
You'll be back for the millennium;
That's in seven measly years.
And if you're blue and lonely,
Pick up that telephone,
Down in that bunker beneath Graceland,
The king sits on his throne.
"