thirsty the king knows about egyptian oil a whole hunka hunka burning crude pushed up with the literal pressure of the prehistoric earth upon one extreme point of focus like burning ants with a magnifying glass it pops and is set ablaze amidst the granular precursor to glass that surrounds sheiks and their harems she tells him she just wants a baby but he just wants to drill baby drill the ghost of graceland remains parched we grind up the fossilized bones of the nonbelievers and extract what we can in his name his cup runneth over he drinks the vessel dry and still remains thirsty; elvis wept.
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