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 long way from home and I miss my loved one so
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In the early morning rain with nowhere 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 ground, where the cold winds blow
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The liquor tasted good and the women all were fast
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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 clouds 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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Because I'm stuck here on the ground, cold and drunks 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.
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Early Mornin' Rain
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| Bob Dylan |
