Frank N. Stein pats

down his flat top

with pomade

takes the battery cables

off his neck bolts and

licks his green lips

he feels blown

like his shoebox Ford—

Mr. Tiki smiles

all wooden

he’s bustin’ out of his

mahogany shell tonight, baby

he’s bringin’ his bongos

and those curses

wearin’ his lettermans sweater

at the wheel of a bare metal Bel Air

 

the boys are gonna fire ’em up

and race the merry mile

they might just hit some

zombies for fun

on the midnight run

or pick up some

blood sucking babes

to make their motors sing

 

flathead, L-head

inline or V

blue flame, fireball

it’s all combustion, see?

stovebolt thriftmaster

dynaflash eight

six banger heart beat

or tri-power weight

turbo fire, red ram

hemi has the heat

smoke ’em if you got ’em!

Frankie screams at Tik

 

make me go, man

make me go!

is a raucous revvin’ rumble

blue smoke dinosaurs

are makin’ all this trouble

make me go, man

make me go!

shiftin’ through hot gears

speed demon mischief makers

got the mortals scared to tears

 

zombie meat is on the grill

Frankie has some time to kill

Vampira suckin’ on his neck

at the drive-in, what the heck?

there is Tiki with Barbarella

swappin’ spit, the lucky fella

popcorn, toothpick, alien kisses

no one better tell his missus

 

time to drag

what’s your bag?

 

a mortal racer

pulls to the line

his Duece a pacer

throbs so sublime

Frankie smooths his hair all neat

and nods that flathead sound

the kid, he revs his hemi beat

big motors start to pound

Vampira drops her scarf to go

hot rod kustoms screamin’ low

smokin’ up hell’s mainstreet

layin’ down that rubber meat

it’s neck ‘n neck

til Frankie wrecks

the kid just keeps on goin’

he saved his soul, his motor won

of this, he is a-knowin’

 

the Thrillers Car Club

has had its shine

in downtown Beezlebub

13 pink slips lost in time

and here-in lies the rub

if you’re gonna drag a Thriller

at the monster motor ball

you better be a sleeper, killer

with horsies long ‘n tall