Early Mornin' Rain

Bob Dylan

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    In the early mornin' rain
    With a dollar in my hand
    With an achin' in my heart
    And my pockets full of sand
    I'm a long way from home
    And I missed my loved on so
    In the early mornin' rain
    And no place to go

    Out on runway number nine
    Big seven-o-seven set to go
    Well, I'm stuck here on the ground
    Where the cold winds blow
    The liquor tasted good
    And the women all were fast
    There she goes, my friend
    She's a rollin' down at last

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    Here the mighty engines roar
    See the silver bird on high
    She's away in westward bound
    Far above the clouds she'll fly
    Where the mornin' rain don't fall
    And the Sun always shines
    She'll be flyin' over my home
    In about three hours time

    This old airports got me down
    It's no earthly good to me
    'Cause I'm stuck here on the ground
    Cold and drunk as I might be
    You can't hop a jet plane
    Like you can a freight train
    So I best be on my way
    In the early mornin' rain

    Información de la canción

    Composición: Gordon Lightfoot

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