| In the early mornin' rain
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| with a dollar in my hand
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| with an achin' in my heart
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| and my pockets full of sand
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| I’m a long way from home
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| and I missed my loved on so in the early mornin' rain
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| and no place to go Out on runway number nine
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| Big seven-o-seven set to go well, I’m stuck here on the ground
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| where the cold winds blow
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| the liquor tasted good
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| and the women all were fast
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| there she goes, my friend
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| she’s a rollin' down at last
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| Here the mighty engines roar
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| see the silver bird on high
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| she’s away in westward bound
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| far above the clouds she’ll fly
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| where the mornin' rain don’t fall
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| and the sun always shines
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| she’ll be flyin' over my home
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| in about three hours time
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| This old airports got me down
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| it’s no earthly good to me
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| 'cause I’m stuck here on the ground
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| cold and drunk as I might be you can’t hop a jet plane
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| like you can a freight train
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| so I best be on my way
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| in the early mornin' rain |