Sometimes Rivers

I've heard it said, so many times, That 'The best is yet to come', But I believe that the best was lost, When I lost my only son. Now sometimes when the hurt burns deep, I reach for the Whiskey and Rye, But I don't cry myself to sleep, I guess the river's run dry. I used to cry a river, I'd sob and bow my head, Hoping I'd cross over, to where you wake up dead, But somehow I survived all that, Though I can't tell you why, I only know, yes it's a fact, That sometimes rivers run dry. People think they know me, But they don't understand, What goes on inside an old man's head, Now I believe in nothin', And there is no 'Promised Land', Unless it's in the whiskey by my bed. Now nothin' really matters, my life goes on the same, I walk the streets at midnight, and I don't mind the rain, But I can hear folk whispering, 'Here comes that crazy guy, Who thinks, that even when it rains, Somehow the river runs dry'. But that's because I lost my son, And find it hard to cry, And end up telling everyone, That sometimes rivers run dry…. Yes, sometimes rivers run dry.