Open All Night – Bruce Springsteen #SLS

Well it’s the early hours of Monday morning here, but I’m sure there are some #SongLyric Sunday people still awake. This week’s prompt is hours/ minutes/ seconds and there were a few possibilities for this one – but then I suddenly remembered that my absolute favourite Bruce Springsteen song of all time actually contains a fleeting reference to hours, so that swung it. It’s also a song about being up all night, which seems kind of appropriate!
I could lecture you for hours about just how good this song is. One man and a sparse, insistent rock ‘n’ roll guitar, the rhythm hammering home the sense of this guy putting his foot down to make it back to see his girlfriend, the absolute poetry of lyrics like ‘sun’s just a red ball rising over them refinery towers’, that tiny little breathless laugh he does on the line ‘gotta call my baby on the telephone’ like he’s just really enjoying himself (listen out for it, you’ll see what I mean)… just fabulous.
Anyway, I’ll stop fan-girling. Enjoy, and have a good week everyone!
I had the carburetor 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
I’m goin’ out tonight I’m gonna rock that jointEarly north Jersey industrial skyline I’m a all set cobra jet creepin’ through the nighttime
Gotta find a gas station gotta find a payphone this turnpike sure is spooky at night when you’re all alone
Gotta hit the gas ’cause I’m runnin’ late, this New Jersey n the mornin’ like a lunar landscape

The boss don’t dig me so he put me on the nightshift
It’s an all night run to get back to where my baby lives
In the wee wee hours your mind gets hazy radio relay towers won’t you lead me to my baby
Underneath the overpass trooper hits his party light switch
Goodnight good luck one two powershift

I met Wanda when she was employed behind the counter at the route 60 Bobs Big Boy fried chicken on the front seat she’s sittin’ in my lap
We’re wipin’ our fingers on a Texaco roadmap
I remember Wanda up on scrap metal hill with them big brown eyes that make your heart stand still

5 A.M. oil pressure’s sinkin’ 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 comin’ on home
Sit tight little mamma I’m commin’ round I got 3 more hours but I’m coverin’ ground

Your eyes get itchy in the wee wee hours sun’s just a red ball risin’ over them refinery towers
Radio’s jammed up with gospel stations lost souls callin’ long distance salvation
Hey Mr. DJ won’t ya hear my last prayer hey ho rock ‘n roll deliver me from nowhere

Lyrics by Bruce Springsteen, borrowed from

6 thoughts on “Open All Night – Bruce Springsteen #SLS

  1. Bruce could really wear a pair of jeans. I was never big on his voice, always so much more happy to just watch him do what he did, which was basically woo a crowd.


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