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