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.
your genie is out of the bottle,
arms spread, legs muscled,
ready to do damage.

tomorrow the Brooklyn Bridge,
our nation's great stone monument.
I'll climb the cables.
scuttle up that arch we call the castle wall.
I'll be a one man mob uprising.
but this is New York.
no one takes notice.
in time, cops will come.
say yeah, yeah, yeah,
then carry me off.
I'll insist we rename the Empire State Building
after me, myself and I.
got my courtroom plea planned.

next week Yankee Stadium,
three thousand feet down.
this is sacred ground.
no telling what a tough cop will do.
fans will throw beer cans.
I've got no honor.  you know that.
I'll run towards the dugout.
guards will seize me. deploy cuffs.
I'll tell them my name is King George,
here to sell 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.
marvel at the wind.
feel our bodies pressed close.
no top-notch cop will catch us.
yes, your hot rod hero
will fire up his folly full throttle.

by the way, before sleep,
I swore I heard you
whisper in my ear:
go barefoot over the flames.
you're on.