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 Well, I had the carburetor, baby, cleaned and checked with her line blown out she's hummin' like a turbojet Propped her up in the backyard on concrete blocks for a new clutch plate and a new set of shocks Took her down to the carwash, check the plugs and points Well, I'm goin' out tonight. I'm gonna rock that joint Early north Jersey industrial skyline I'm a all-set cobra jet creepin' through the nighttime Gotta find a gas station, gotta find a payphone this turnpike sure is spooky at night when you're all alone Gotta hit the gas, baby. I'm running late, this New Jersey in the mornin' like a lunar landscape Now, the boss don't dig me, so he put me on the nightshift It's an all night run to get back to where my baby lives In the wee wee hours your mind gets hazy radio relay towers, won't you lead me to my baby? Underneath the overpass, trooper hits his party light switch Goodnight good luck one two power shift I met Wanda when she was employed behind the counter at route 60 Bob's Big Boy Fried Chicken on the front seat, she's sittin' in my lap We're wipin' our fingers on a Texaco roadmap I remember Wanda up on scrap metal hill with them big brown eyes that make your heart stand still Well, at five a.m., oil pressure's sinkin' fast I make a pit stop, wipe the windshield, check the gas Gotta call my baby on the telephone Let her know that her daddy's comin' on home Sit tight, little mama, I'm comin' 'round I got three more hours, but I'm coverin' ground Your eyes get itchy in the wee wee hours sun's just a red ball risin' over them refinery towers Radio's jammed up with gospel stations lost souls callin' long distance salvation Hey, mister deejay, woncha hear my last prayer hey, ho, rock'n'roll, deliver me from nowhere
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Copyright © Bruce Springsteen (ASCAP)
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