the king of rock'n'roll blues

he's got his soul in the stomach
and throws up remains of caviar
he's too fine to roadside diners
but this time bourbon's gone too far

everywhere he carries his sloppy guitar
like it was attached to his vomit soul
he ain't no scum-bag rockstar
he's just the king of rock'n'roll


his spirit smells like gasoline
and he drives a brand new cadillac
he's too weak he's too thin
too bent up on prozac

lost his money, lost his friends
all under drugs and alcohol
he doesn't care, for he's got the meds
and he's the king of rock'n'roll


the whole world loves to watch his bungle bones
snapping along his melody
he loves to be loved, and loved alone
but he's still in a lone lone melancholy

tonight on stage there'll be fire!
he'll burn the audience till it turns coal
he'll run away on his flaming tires
you know, 'cause he's the king of rock'n'roll


no place to carry a juggernaut
no place he finds to rest his head
no one told him something that mattered
no one said rock'n'roll was dead

he prayed jesus, budah, satan and such
'cause in this damn world he felt alone
no one to share his great catch
of being the king of rock'n'roll

no one told him rock'n'roll was dead
no one told me rock'n'roll was dead