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In the early morning rain with a dollar in my hand |
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And an aching in my heart and my pockets full of sand |
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I'm a longway from home and I miss my loved one so |
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In the early morning rain with nowhere place to go |
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Cut on runway number nine, big 707 set to go |
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I'm stuck here on the grass, with the pain that ever grows |
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The liquor tasted good and the women all were fast |
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Well, there she goes, my friend, she's rolling down at last |
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Hear the mighty engines roar, see the silver bird on high |
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She's away and westward bound, far above the cloud she'll fly |
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Where the morning rain don't fall and the sun always shines |
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She'll be flying over my home in about three hours time |
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This old airport's got me down, it's no earthly good to me |
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Cause I'm stuck here on the ground, cold and drunk as I might be |
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You can't hop a jet plane like you can a freight train |
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So I'd best be on my way in the early morning rain |
