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The Crown

I’ve grown tired and weary of being me.

Shame, my fans can’t see, what I can see.

It’s August ’77, the World can’t feel my pain.

Can it not see, I’m no longer the same?


I’m always there for others, night and day.

I love helping everybody, as that’s my way.

But lately it’s me, who needs a helping hand.

But it’s hard to get anybody to understand.


I need to escape, some secret place to go.

But The Colonel will insist ‘one more show’

I’m bored of being The King of Rock and Roll.

The non stop pressure has taken its toll.


I’m blinded by a million nightly stage lights.

An upside down life, sleep by day, live by nights.

Betrayed, my personal life, soon to be shared.

And I fear the reaction to every hurtful word.


Words written by a once trusted, long friend.

It’s so sad our friendship has come to an end.

A torturous touring schedule, State to State.

Tomorrow, I’m in Maine, new Tour, first date.


Pumped full of prescription potions and pill.

No more Number One’s, to pay mounting bills.

My body aches, my health is in severe decline.

If only they’d let me give up this crown of mine.

◄ Midnight Ride

Missing ►


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M.C. Newberry

Fri 20th Oct 2023 17:14

I wonder what Col. Tom Parker might say. Elvis the Pelvis
(his long-ago nickname) was a product of his time, capturing
the fan base of the emerging teen market of his time. I recall a
contemporary pal - from Liverpool of pre-Beatles origin -waxing eloquently about Elvis. As for me, I always preferred the
music of Fats Domino, despite a fondness for a couple of Presley hits = "Girl Of My Best Friend" being the favourite.

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Stephen Gospage

Fri 20th Oct 2023 08:48

A fascinating poem, Mike. I visited Gracelands in the 1990s - sad and macabre at that time. A genius consumed by the public's adulation and other people's greed..

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