Searching For a Riff

Searching I was for a good riff, Maybe like in 'Locomotive Breath', So I called up my old pal Biff But a cold, he had caught a death. Now with Biff down and out, I was left to go it alone; “But blisters on my fingers!” To shout, I mean I was down to the bone. So to the bible open at page one, For some guidance, why not? But nary a riff would come And to page two I never got. Now a cup of inspiration taken, I'm grooving to Carlos Santana; 'Soul Sacrifice' if I'm not mistaken, Thinking there's always manana. Godammit, where you at Biff? I got all these words in my head! Hey, hey, my, my I need a riff, Drinking here by myself instead.