THE KING OF ROCK N' ROLL VS. THE KING OF THE DEAD Names's The King aka Elvis Presley, baby. Housewares & rest homes. How could I have gone from the king of rock'n'roll to this ? An old guy in a restroom in East Texas with a growth on his pecker. So I signed everything over to Sebastian. Except for enough money to sustain me if things got bad. I was determined to make myself a new life. A better one. But me and Sebastian, we had us a deal. If I wanted to trade back, he'd let me. It was all written up in the contract. Thing was, I lost my copy in a barbeque accident.
Ask not what your rest home can do for you. Ask what you can do for your rest home. Even a big bitch cockroach like you should know... never, but never, fuck with the King.
What do I really have left in life but this place ? It ain't much of a home, but it's all I got. Well, goddamnit. I'll be damned if I let some foreign, graffiti writin', soul suckin', son of a bitch in an oversized cowboy hat and boots take my friend's souls and shit 'em down the visitors toilet!
Catch This Show, Baby!