I Am Running From the Heat

I'm on my hog tonight, we're gonna fly wear a motorcycle helmet? I'd rather die the fuzz is chasing me I think it's neat They ain't gett'n me tonight I am running from the heat Flat out at one hundred and forty These pigs cannot catch me They block me in How sneaky can they be? Three against one I wish I was with my boys They'd make mincemeat of these coppers And their flashing light toys Oh well I'll get a nice sleep for free in a jail house, and maybe it'll have TV Pete or Thomas might already there be. I will just have to wait and see