[hurt]

Elvis, my friend - J.D. Sumner




Precious memories, how they linger.
God sent this world a baby boy
Who was born into poverty
And as a boy he wondered
What would be his destiny?
His life would be busy and things happened
that even he couldn't believe.
He had so much to give and yet very little to receive.
He started out with a song and a wiggle.
Some people couldn't understand
But you and I now know it was all in God's plan.
No sooner had he started when he lost his most precious prize.
Tragedy struck this young man, his mother died.
By this time he had the Colonel, who was to guide his every step
And things begin to happen that neither one
Could seem to help.
He came home from the Army and we saw him on TV and
Because of that wiggle they wouldn't even show his knees.
His career in the movies took him from us for awhile
Even though he didn't like it, he still gave the world a smile.
He came back to us in person.
This is what he really enjoyed
And when he felt, he didn't please us
With himself he was annoyed
We demanded, not understanding
That he give to us his all
He tried to do what we wanted
For the big and the small.
The demand for his records, to have a glimpse or touch his hand
Bit by bit it took it's toll.
For even he was just a man.
God in all His wisdom, even though he loved him so,
Knew what was best
It was time for him to go.
Precious father, loving mother,
The King is gone, is what they said.
August 16th, 1977, my friend ELVIS is dead.
I couldn't believe it, how could this be, why GOD?
Why take Elvis, why not me?
I'll never forget the funeral that day
What would we sing and what would we say?
I chose the songs and those that would sing
I called Rex Humbard, oh yeah
He's say the right things.
Years have now passed and lies have been told.
How could these people be so bold!
Well maybe it's over, maybe it's through
Surely there's nothing anyone else could say or do.
There's one last thing, one last attempt
To tear down the King.
One thing you forgot, when you wrote your book,
The casket could have been closed
Then no one could look
I was there, I know, I felt his hand
And I know the difference between a hunk of wax and that of a man.
Why if he had wanted to pull a hoax, likes been implied, he was smart enough to do it,
But Elvis would not lie.
Well, this book too, will gather it's dust, and the place that printed it
Will also rust. But one thing that nobody will ever END,
And that's memories of a great man, a great humanitarian
And the world's greatest entertainer, ELVIS, my friend.

Precious memories, how they linger, how they ever flood my soul.
In the stillness of the midnight, precious sacred scenes unfold.

by J. D. Sumner