There is an independent book store The last one that remained All the othres you might look for Have been eaten by the chains The soldier on On one cleans the windows panes And it was there I read the story So strange it must be real Of a car in Arizona with Elvis at the wheel He is looking up The sky has something to reveal It is the face of Josef Stanhard Being formed by drifting clouds Above the sleeping Memphis mafia And unsuspecting cows This is a sign from god...