Den evige Bob Dylan…
10. september 2013
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 miss my loved ones so
In the early morning rain
With no place to go
Out on runway number nine
Big seven-o-seven set to go
And I’m stuck here in the grass
Where the cold wind blows
Now the liquor tasted good
And the women all were fast
Well there she goes my friend
She’ll be rollin’ down at last
Hear the mighty engines roar
See the silver wing on high
She’s away and 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’ o’er my home
In about three hours time
This old airport’s got me down
It’s no earthly good to me
‘Cause I’m stuck here on the ground
As cold and drunk as I can be
You can’t jump a jet plane
Like you can a freight train
So I’d best be on my way
In the early morning rain
You can’t jump a jet plane
Like you can a freight train
So I’d best be on my way
In the early morning rain
