Sing It Frankie

Strangers on my flight,
turbans they’re packin’.
Wonderin’ if they might,
plan a hijacking.
They could pull a stunt,
before this flight is through.
Something’s on their minds.
I saw them mutter.
What that in their hands?
Looks like box cutters,
I’m gonna kick some ass,
if they make a move.
Strangers on my flight.
Two smelly people,
and they’re not talking right;
and in a moment,
I will grab a baseball bat;
and that will be that.
Swing like Joe DiMaggio,
and rip them both a new a-hole.
And if they pick a fight,
and try to screw us,
I’ll punch out their lights,
just like Joe Louis.
It would feel so right,
for strangers on my flight.
Ratta Tat Tat Tat,
Budda Bing Bang Boom,
Zooma Zooma Zoom.
Send those bastards to the moon…