Well, I had the carburetor, baby, cleaned and checkedWith her line blown out she's hummin' like a turbojetPropped her up in the backyard on concrete blocksFor a new clutch plate and a new set of shocksTook her down to the carwash, check the plugs and pointWell, I'm goin' out tonight. I'm gonna rock that jointEarly north Jersey industrial skylineI'm a all-set cobra jet creepin' through the nighttimeGotta find a gas station, gotta find a pay phoneThis turnpike sure is spooky at night when you're all aloneGotta hit the gas, baby. I'm running lateThis New Jersey in the mornin' like a lunar landscapeNow, the boss don't dig me, so he put me on the night shiftIt's an all-night run to get back to where my baby livesIn the wee, wee hours your mind gets hazyRadio relays towers, won't you lead me to my baby?Underneath the overpass, trooper hits his party light switchGood night, good luck. One, two power shiftI met Wanda when she was employedBehind the counter at Route Sixty Bob's Big Boy Fried ChickenOn the front seat, she's sittin' in my lapWe're wipin' our fingers on a Texaco road mapI remember Wanda up on scrap metal hillWith them big brown eyes that make your heart stand stillWell, at five a.m., oil pressure's sinkin' fastI make a pit stop, wipe the windshield, check the gasGotta call my baby on the telephoneLet her know that her daddy's comin' on homeSit tight, little mama, I'm comin' `roundI got three more hours, but I'm coverin' groundYour eyes get itchy in the wee, wee hoursSun's just a red ball risin' over them refinery towersRadio's jammed up with gospel stationsLost souls callin' long distance salvationHey, mister deejay, won'tcha hear my last prayer?Hey, ho, rock'n'roll, deliver me from nowhere
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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 point
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 pay phone
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 night shift
It's an all-night run to get back to where my baby lives
In the wee, wee hours your mind gets hazy
Radio relays towers, won't you lead me to my baby?
Underneath the overpass, trooper hits his party light switch
Good night, good luck. One, two power shift
I met Wanda when she was employed
Behind the counter at Route Sixty Bob's Big Boy Fried Chicken
On the front seat, she's sittin' in my lap
We're wipin' our fingers on a Texaco road map
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, won'tcha hear my last prayer?
Hey, ho, rock'n'roll, deliver me from nowhere
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