I WAS A TEENAGE ELVIS
Copyright © Geoff Allnutt (The Speech Painter) 2003

 

I murdered heartbreak killed old Shep
as don't cry daddys daddy wept
I teased the licks of don't be cruel
miming in the mirror - the king
my proud mary on the wall
bedroom reverb, deodorant mic
the street more desperate, than lonesome tonight
one neighbour I heard wrote a petition
as I practised for the Isle of Wight
talent competition

I was a geek, the kid with the quiff
body of twelve year old
but god, my pelvis was stiff
my voice just dropped
was shot to pieces
but I'd memorised the lyric
as sharp as my creases
in rehearsals the stage set bare
flick comb flicked I combed my hair
my backing band were veterans, playing unimpressed
they looked liked the campsite dated and depressed

what are you playing kid the drummer inquired
he was older than my dad man he should've retired
Œall shook up' by Presley I replied with a grin
as I strutted to the mic thinking I was him
we went through a verse or two didn't really gel
I was worse than cliff them a backing band from hell

my friends say I'm acting wild as a bug
I'm in love ugh I'm all shook up

I criticised their timing
slagged the way they played
a verbal machine gun
my looks a grenade
four local butchers
with sausages for hands
would not slaugher a song
like the guys in this band
the redcoats of Shanklin
had hooks of hanging meet
and the meter of a ringing till
kept a better swinging beat

the lead guitarist boiled, about to do me in
but the drummer sat back and said with a grin
as he flicked some ash from his faded flares
well kid you sure ain't Elvis
and we're not the Jordanaires

22 years later Elvis long gone dead
we are in a restaurant, I am not a ted
I'm the only guy with 27 dykes
man the joint is jumping Chinese Elvis on the mic
I could tell the story of how i'm the only guy
but that is past and private so i won't tell you why
we are pissed and loud and wasted
kareokees coming next
we're all singing Elvis
and i am very wrecked
I walk into the bathroom grab a bar of soap
I quiff my hair in seconds, man I blame the dope
my collar is up, my shirt is undone
I am in the building, I have come
27 lesbians none of them in flares
most are coupled up
some dance with wooden chairs
four are right behind me with very speeding stares
well I may not be Elvis
but they're not the Jordanaires

its become my metaphor for being unaware
and if you want to criticise
baby I don't care

so come on be my backing band
get up off your chairs
cause sure I ain't no Elvis
but you not the Jordanaires