Текст песни Highway 29 (Live at King's Hall, Belfast, UK, 03/19/96) - 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
And 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
My 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
If she was just direct I don't know
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 running
I was runnin' then I was flying