Red Elvises

I bet you heard lots of tales
About love, about glory.
That's all bullshit.
Here goes my story.
I was born in Chernobyl,
Grew up on a farm,
Though my father was dead.
I was son of a gun.
Whoa-oa-oa, the Sad Cowboy Song.
Whoa-oa-oa, the Sad Cowboy Song.
My sweetheart, Mary-Lou,
She was a folk singer.
I gave her the ring.
She gave me the finger.
She treated me bad--she tickled my tummy.
She done me wrong!
But at least she done me.