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.
I'm out of the bottle.
you'll see.
I'm much more than you've bargained for.

tomorrow the Brooklyn Bridge,
I'll scuttle up that arch we call the castle wall.
cry out "I'm Captain America."
then tell them that mental hospitals don't work.
when the cops come,
they'll say yeah, yeah, yeah,
and carry me off.
but first folks will take photos.
you can sell t-shirts in my name.
I'll be in the press.
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.
fans will scream and spit at me.
I'll cry "play ball! play ball!
I love the Bronx Bombers."
then 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.
together we'll flee down green street.
no top-notch cop will catch us.
yes, your hot rod hero
will fire up his folly full throttle.

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