Okay, it’s thinning.
Every day, there’s fewer and fewer, more of the grays than yesterday, and there’s the ones that keep on dying.
You bet I look at myself in the mirror. It’s a big part of me, a big part of how I earn my living.
My white jumpsuits are turning gray, and dry cleaning bills are getting higher, and so is the price of gas. An oil change too, but I ain’t using the car so much, since there ain’t been so many shows.
I could use a couple of rhinestones that fell off, but my old lady ran out on me.
Oh, they’re thinning and turning gray -- the hairs, the suits, and the folks at the hotel bars, but I got the rent paid through November, and the old Caddy, she runs.
I may be trailer park Mikey Mancurro, but I’m hitting Vegas again this weekend, and I am Elvis, The King, for you, until the day I die.