The Storm

DANTE:

Last week we're sailing back from Cuba

cargo full of coconuts,

balsa wood and rum.

Storm springs up and powerful waves,

taller than Ferris wheels,

pound us like a drum.

And we're keeling over starboard.

Then we're pitching over port.

Then the main-sheet splits

and the rigging cuts short

so I head for the keep

and break open the rum

and I curse at the wind

and I bitch at the waves

and I yell at the storm:

"Come on and get me!"

Got no fear of the wind.

Got no fear of the waves.

"I'm ready to go!

Take me!

I'm ready to go!"

Then all the sudden

like the wind dies down

and the sea goes flat

and my crewmen ask:

"How the hell you do that?

You must be Jesus Christ

or Neptune's whore."

They ask me:

"Can you walk on water?"

I tell them:

"Sure."

My uncle is the wind

and my cousins are the stars.

How's that for family connections?

My sister is the rain

and my mother is the sky

and my father is,

my father was...

Anyway,

So now we're stranded in Biloxi.

Ton of rotten coconuts,

crew without pay.

Once I get done settlin' bus'ness

I'm gonna take my money

and quit the sea.

Stay on land.

Settle in New York.

Maybe Chicago.

I was born to my ambitions.

I have natural charisma.

I could be mayor of Chicago.

I could be anything you ask me.

I want...

I want...