Gregory Alan Isakov - Highway 29

I slipped on her ^Fshoe, she was a perfect size ^Cseven I said "There's no smokin' in^Am the store ma'am." ^GShe crossed her legs and ^Fthen We made some ^Fsmall talk that's where it should have ^Cstopped She slipped me her ^Amnumber, ^GI put it in my ^Fpocket My hand slipped up her ^Fskirt, everything slipped my ^Cmind In that little ^Amroadhouse..^F. On ^GHighway ^C29

It was a small town ^Fbank it was a ^Cmess Well I ^Amhad a gun ^Gyou know the ^Frest Money on the floor^Fboards, shirt was covered in blood And she was ^Ccryin', her and me we ^Amheaded south..^F. On ^GHighway ^C29

In a little desert mo^Amtel the air was hot and ^Fclean I slept the sleep of the ^Cdead, I didn't ^Gdream I woke in the ^Ammorning, washed my face in the ^Fsink We headed into the ^CSierra Madres 'cross the border ^Gline

The winter ^Fsun shot through the black ^Ctrees I told myself it was all something in ^Amher But as we ^Gdrove I knew it was something in ^Fme Something that'd been ^Fcomin' for a long long ^Ctime And something that was ^Amhere with me now..^F. On ^GHighway ^C29

The road was filled with broken ^Fglass and gaso^Cline She wasn't sayin' ^Amnothin',^G it was just a ^Fdream The wind come silent through the ^Fwindshield All I could see was snow, ^Csky and pines I closed my eyes and I was ^Amrunnin' ^G I was runnin' then I was ^Fflyin'