Magic Fire

My touch could start a fire
I’ll cut your breaks and watch the tires roll
Open flames fill my hands, but my wedding finger with no band is cold
It would be wonderful if I could make gold
Here’s to the Midas touch
Instead of gold, I make love
Here’s to the Midas touch
Instead of gold, I make love
I need your breath to feel love
The bottle drops; the beer floods
We stagger down the interstate then burn down a Super 8. Everything is
wonderful now that I make gold
Here’s to the Midas touch
Instead of gold I make love
Here’s to the Midas touch
Instead of gold I make love
Put another notch in her spine
It’s meeting new hands all the time
The women I bed aren’t willing
Well they might be--they might have been
But then I touched them
They have to burn something