Elton John

I remember when he was the measure of cool
for a couple of years back in junior high school.
We were all chanting Your sister looks cute
in her braces and boots, though nobody knew
that he wasn't dreaming of anyone's sister.
Maybe that's why his lyricist, Mr.
Bernie Taupin, wrote lines so deranged—
I mean, what could possibly be more strange
than saying Goodbye to Yellow Brick Road
so he could go hunting the horny black toad?
Unless it's cra-rockin' on Crocodile Rock,
unless it was Elton donning a frock—
but that had to wait about ten more years,
when things got a little bit safer for queers.
Meantime he hid behind rose-colored glasses,
while we sang his hits in our 7th grade classes,
not knowing why we liked what we did—
Mars ain't the kind of place to raise your kid.