Highway 29 - BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN



I slipped on her shoe, she was a perfect size seven

I said "There's no smokin' in the store ma'am."

She crossed her legs and then

We made some small talk that's where it should have stopped

She slipped me her number, I put it in my pocket

My hand slipped up her skirt, everything slipped my mind

In that little roadhouse

On Highway 29



It was a small town bank it was a mess

Well I had a gun you know the rest

Money on the floorboards, shirt was covered in blood

And she was cryin', her and me we headed south

On Highway 29



In a little desert motel the air was hot and clean

I slept the sleep of the dead, I didn't dream

I woke in the morning, washed my face in the sink

We headed into the Sierra Madres 'cross the border line

The winter sun shot through the black trees

I told myself it was all something in her

But as we drove I knew it was something in me

Something that'd been comin' for a long long time

And something that was here with me now

On Highway 29



The road was filled with broken glass and gasoline

She wasn't sayin' nothin', it was just a dream

The wind come silent through the windshield

All I could see was snow, sky and pines

I closed my eyes and I was runnin'

I was runnin' then I was flyin'



Le Meilleur de toute la Musique en Paroles, Chansons et Lyrics sur www.Paroles-Lyrics.fr