It's
ninety-three degrees,
and the radio
says a storm front's movin' in.
Sure is hot.
There's a
double feature down at the Fox,
but
everybody's seen it twice.
And, besides,
the air conditioner's broke.
The old lady
who runs the ice cream store
got robbed
last week.
She put a
lock on the door,
and a bell on
the lock.
Now she don't
answer the door,
'cause she
takes that good long look at you,
and you look
too tough.
The air is
hot and heavy and wet,
and you just
can't get high.
That's when
sparks fly on E Street.
And the
little girls walking lookin' so hot,
and the
little boys' souls grow weak
when the
girls give them a double shot.
School boy
pops pull out the stops on a Friday night.
And those
teenage tramps in skin-tight pants
do the E
Street dance,
but in their
heart and soul they know it's all right.
Just like
those kids down there,
ooh, hooked
up in a scuffle.
Dressed in
snake skin suits;
Packed with
Detroit muscle;
Doin' the E
Street shuffle.
Ooh, the
shuffle.
Doin' the E
Street shuffle.
Ooh, the
shuffle.