Being Elvis was a heavy load eh? The windows of his Graceland room were blacked out in the early 60's. Elvis lived at night. The pink shirt of Beale Street had faded, all the dreams were sold. The darkness inside flooded out further year by year. Sweaty speed freak vampire dropping in on Nixon to ask to be his culture spy, the drug war Captain Marvel, shovelling medication like M&M's, flying the Lisa Marie to Denver for a sandwich. Downers on downers, falling asleep in his soup. They keep him alive, they breath through him, live out of his pockets, drink his green blood like wine. All the good girls had gone. Momma was long gone. What had it all been for? Why him? Where does love go? Sat at the piano in the early hours, placing the hands on those old gospel chords. It sounds almost the same, but it sure don't feel. Its a hard life for heroes.
Above: Last photo 12.28am August 16 1977, entering Graceland.
August 18th, 1977: A silver Cadillac followed by the white Cadillac hearse with Elvis' body and seventeen white Cadillac limousines, on its way from Graceland past bystanders the two and a half miles to Forest Hill Cemetery Midtown.
Through tear-filled eyes I watch as you ride by,
A chauffeur, a chauffeur at the wheel dressed up so fine
Well I'll never, I'll never love another
Oh my heart, all my dreams, yeah they're with you
August 18th, 1977: A silver Cadillac followed by the white Cadillac hearse with Elvis' body and seventeen white Cadillac limousines, on its way from Graceland past bystanders the two and a half miles to Forest Hill Cemetery Midtown.
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