whiskey riffs

there ain't no silver linin'
wasn't ever nothin in the skies
but thunderclouds and blindin light

you can carry what you want to hold
but remember not let it go
if it falls, it folds and there's no way to know
where tomorrow catches sorrow like a stone

there ain't no golden angels
band a-waitin over yonder jordan
buried in the mornin glory just a bunch of sand

filling stations with thrown cylinders out back
craggy bricks and oil slicks
fighting for space in an eden, even if the evening resists
the crowding of senses into the shallow

there ain't no storied lives
or nothin of that sort of black jack
champion bull-frog leaper of heart

you know the rusted trusted trustle
the silent night tussle and loss of control
the spilt anger danger of another strangers overcoat
bolted to the floor and boarded over windows

there ain't no death on the other side
just cowboys and indians man
and crab cakes the size of rhode island