Pick me up, eight o'clock i'll meet you on the sidewalk or honk twice, keep it running i promise not to take long just my springsteen records and the favorite things my blue jean jacket and the clothes i'm in and one million good reasons to hit the car ceiling don't stop, go deep we can sleep when we get there we'll take turns at the wheel just go, take us anywhere i took my good-luck nickel and a pair of shades i want to trade this winter for the sunny days or whatever the season i'm gonna breathe in and ain't it funny how the rain keeps running down the windshield i'm still holding my doorkeys i should throw them in the backseat among the hard luck stories and the long lost dreams A the six-pack wrappers and the bad ideas or whatever is keeping me from sleeping i let a good girl go with a bad excuse the radio's playing that rich kid's blues and i don't know what the song is about i take real deep hits just to shut them out and there's a great big hole where my dreams once fit give me three, four minutes and i'm over it whatever they're singing whatever that girl said whatever i was thinking hey man, are we there yet? hey man, are we there yet?