(B. Dylan)
Well, I ride on a mailtrain, baby,
Can’t buy a thrill.
Well, I’ve been up all night, baby,
Leanin’ on the window sill.
Well, if I die
On top of the hill
And if I don’t make it,
You know my baby will.
And if I don’t make it,
You know my baby will.
Now the wintertime is coming,
The windows are filled with frost.
I went to tell everybody,
But I could not get across.
Well, I wanna be your lover, baby,
I don’t wanna be your boss.
Don’t say I never warned you
When your train gets lost.
Don’t say I never warned you
When your train gets lost.
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