The last Elvis in Madison square
Billboards sparkle off his liquorice hair
Last year's papers blow 'round his flairs
At his cassette's crescendo, he kicks at the air
No one's clapping, so he whips 'round his crotch
Hearing only an echo saying, "Thank you very much"
The last Elvis sleeps 'neath the stars
Scans the sky for father from his burnt-out car
Sweet David Beckham, the facsimile
Curls 'round his shoulder, purring, "At last we are free"
Goodbye to Peckham Rye and Hackney Downs
The bridges to my future are burning down
Goodbye to summers passed in Highland Park
The innocence of summer nights is dead at last
Then there's only one more tradesman in the triangle of gold
Clings to his body with the nails of his soul
The extension's new but the money's old
The plasterers don't come, the smoko never ends and the house is never sold
Goodbye to Peckham Rye and Hackney Downs
The bridges to my future are burning down
Goodbye to summers passed in Highland Park
The innocence of summer nights is dead at last
