Full Throttle

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I'm your mean city genie
and you're my bad witch from the north.
we're in this together.
no more early to bed, early to rise.
the genie is out of the bottle.
alakazam!

tomorrow the Brooklyn Bridge,
I'll scuttle up that arch
we call the castle wall.
tell watchers that I'm
a holy soul on a pilgrimage.
come watch me fly.
cops will come.
say yeah, yeah, yeah, and carry me away.
the press will take pictures.
I'll have my grand moment of glory.
downtown, in the holding tank,
I'll insist we rename the Empire State Building
the Daisy Duck Tower.
got my courtroom plea planned.

next week Yankee Stadium,
three thousand feet down.
I'll land in center field.
fans will scream, spit,
and throw beer cans at me.
no matter.
I'll cry "play ball! play ball!
I love the Bronx Bombers."
then I'll run towards the dugout.
guards will seize me. deploy cuffs.
I'll tell them my name is King George
and I'm here to sell a new shampoo.
look for me on the evening news.

just bought us a 1500cc Hog,
a sleek American beauty.
we'll flee down green street.
bust out across fields.
no top-notch cop will catch us.
your hot rod hero
will fire up his folly full throttle.

by the way,
last night before sleep,
I swore I heard you whisper:
"go barefoot over the flames."