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 I slipped on her shoe, she was a perfect size seven I said "there's no smokin' in the store ma'am" She crossed her legs and then We made some small talk, that's where it should have stopped She slipped me a number, I put it in my pocket My hand slipped up her skirt, everything slipped my mind In that little roadhouse On highway 29 It was a small town bank, it was a mess Well I had a gun, you know the rest Money on the floorboards, shirt was covered in blood And she was cryin', her and me we headed south On highway 29 In a little desert motel, the air it was hot and clean l slept the sleep of the dead, I didn't dream I woke in the morning washed my face in the sink We headed into the Sierra Madres 'cross the borderline The winter sun, shot through the black trees I told myself it was all something in her But as we drove I knew it was something in me Something had been comin' for a long long time And something that was here with me now On highway 29 The road was filled with broken glass and gasoline She wasn't sayin' nothin'', it was just a dream The wind come silent through the windshield All I could see was snow and sky and pines I closed my eyes and I was runnin', I was runnin' then I was flyin'
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Copyright © Bruce Springsteen (ASCAP)
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