Byrds (The)

Gunga Din
I'm writing this here letter from abroad a D.C.8 Headin' into Angel town, I hope it's not too late It rained in New York City, Mr.Rock'n Roll couldn't stay The crowd was mad and we were bad, chasin' the sun back to L.A. Have breakfast with me mama, I hope they'll let us in Got a leather jacket on, you know that it's a sin Gunga Din Sittin' backwards on this airplane, it's bound to make me sick Spend your life on a D.C.8, never get to bed, settle down in the blue Now we're over Kansas where the clouds are flowing by The whole wide world looks back at me Just like a mushroom high, I wonder why Aus Songtexte Mania