-pockets full of sand Im a long ways from home And I missed my
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loved one so In the early mornin rain With no place to go
Out on runway number nine Big 707 set to go Well Im out here on the grass Where the pavement never grows Where the liquor tasted good And the women all were fast There she goes my
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friend Shes rolling out at last
Hear the mighty engines roar See the silver wing on high Shes away and westward bound For above the clouds she flies Where the mornin rain dont fall And the sun always shines Shell be flying over my
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home In about three hours time
This ol airports got me down Its no earthly good to me Cause Im stuck here on the ground Cold and drunk as I might be Cant jump a jet plane Like you can a freight train So I best be on my