Grateful Dead

Blue light rain, whoa unbroken chain,
Looking for familiar faces in an empty window pane.
Listening for the secret, searching for the sound
But i could only hear the preacher and the baying of his hounds.
Willow sky, whoa, i walk and wonder why,
They say love your brother, but you will catch it when you try.
Roll you down the line boy, drop you for a loss,
Ride you out on a cold railroad and nail you to a cross.
November and more, as i wait for the score,