Many fools have tried in vain
To lift my sunken eyelids
This groovy mover danced right into a coma
The undead king of rock 'n' roll
My tomb; a bedsit shrine
I'm pickled in cheap wine
The silence is deafening
But I still hear the crowds scream
I reach for my guitar pick
To wrench the meat from out my teeth
Sweat-stained polyester, musty leather
I'm a rotting relic of rock 'n' roll
Exalted in my shrine
Soaked in cheap white wine
Swallowed by shadows
But I still hear their screams
Dusty trophies make me sneeze
As I lurch about my merch
Phantom septum haunts my dreams
Succubus groupies make my cream
