Prayer for Elvis

I'm a good girl, Jesus smiles on me,

I don't forget myself, I know my Bible.

I try and do right by those who mock me.

I sing praises every Sunday,

imagining the angels up there by the ceiling.

I keep my blue spotted dress over my knees.

I pray for you, Elvis, I pray extra hard

even though my eyes saw that twitchin'

and twistin', even though I never knew hips could go

in that direction, I have not been turned

toward the devil and his nasty ways, I am not

tempted to shake my own self in front of the mirror

just to feel it, that music, that terrible music,

if you listen too long, your bones start jumpin',

it's like possession, oh Elvis, you have chosen

a path to hell but it's not too late, truly,

I would wait for you to figure out there will only

be trouble ahead, whiskey and worse.

Love can save you, Elvis, the love of Jesus

and my own sweet love, tender,

like that one song, the quiet one.