Who else but HE could walk the moon
And dance with hair aflame’s?
Who else but HE could sing a tune
HIS voice a sexy dame’s?
HE lived the life of Peter Pan
HIS life HE filled with toys.
Shared HIS home with Chimpanzees
And HIS bed with grade-school boys.
Who else but HE could rock a mask
Before twas hip with SARs?
Who else but HE could even ask
For a dance that grabs "cigars?"
Against genetics most of us
Are impotent and flaccid.
But HE triumphed all HIS life
Over HIS nucleic acid.
In the sunset of HIS singing,
In the twilight above all,
HIS esteemed and holy highness
Said yes to propofol.
Expunging family from his face
And their stink from in his nose
HE cut away the human race
And far above HE rose.
And in HIS death the curtains rose
On a torrent of hippo-poos.
The endless, pointless specials
That masquerade as news.
HE must have come from stars above
Thought fans for all it’s worth.
HIS whole brood looked all alike,
Yet like no one else on earth.
We want to wish HIM fairy-well,
Send him off with reaper grim.
But fans’ll never ease their grip
Like on the KING before HIM.