Blasting down the highway
In my Batmobile.
You squealed in delight,
We’re going to Paris.
Caught between my passport
And a rootbeer float.
I turned the car around,
Cause you made fun of me.
You tell me I’m
Ridiculous.
A clown,
So preposterous.
Who would believe the
King was the Joker,
Hiding behind
His confidence?
