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