| I had the carburetor cleaned and checked
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| With her line blown out she’s hummin' like a turbojet
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| Propped her up in the backyard on concrete blocks
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| 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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| I’m goin' out tonight, I’m gonna rock this joint
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| Early north Jersey industrial skyline
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| I’m a all set cobra jet creepin' through the nighttime
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| Gotta find a gas station gotta find a payphone
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| This turnpike sure is spooky at night when you’re all alone
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| Gotta hit the gas baby I’m runnin' late
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| This New Jersey in the mornin' like a lunar landscape
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| The boss don’t dig me so he put me on the nightshift
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| It takes me two hours to get back to where my baby lives
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| In the wee wee hours your mind gets hazy
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| 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 powershift
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| I met Wanda when she was employed
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| Behind the counter at the route 60 Bob’s Big Boy
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| 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
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| With them big brown eyes that make your heart stand still
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| 5 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 mamma I’m comin' round
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| I got 3 more hours but I’m coverin' ground
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| Your eyes get itchy in the wee wee hours
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| Sun’s just a red ball risin' over them refinery towers
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| Radio’s jammed up with gospel stations
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| Lost souls callin' long distance salvation
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| Hey Mr. DJ won’t ya hear my last prayer
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| Hey ho rock 'n' roll deliver me from nowhere |