Whiskey for the Angels

Mm. Hmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm. Bar lights low, jukebox hums, snow outside

where no one comes. Three chairs empty, four still filled. We drink

to the hearts time couldn't still. Whiskey for the angels, raise it high.

For every soul that touched the sky. No tears tonight, just peace and

flame. We'll meet again where the good ones came. An old man

bows his head and prays. For names that fade,

but never fade away. The barkeep nods, pours one more round.

Says, "Grace is quiet, but it's found." Whiskey for the angels,