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 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 takes me two hours 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 the Route 60 Bob's Big Boy
Fried chicken on the front seat, she's sitting in my lap
We're wiping 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

Woo-hoo, woo!
Ha!
C'mon now, hey

Well at five A.M. oil pressure's sinking 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 coming on home
Sit tight, little mama, I'm a-coming 'round
I got a-three more hours but I'm covering ground

Your eyes get itchy in the wee wee hours
Sun's just a red ball rising over them refinery towers
Radio's jammed up with gospel stations
Lost souls calling long distance salvation
Hey mister deejay won't you hear my last prayer?
Hey ho rock 'n roll deliver me from nowhere

Hey da da di da, di da da
Oh hey da da di da, di da da
Oh hey da da di da, di da da
Oh hey da da

Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Writer(s): Bruce Springsteen