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    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

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    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'

    Información de la canción

    Composición: Bruce Springsteen

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