Backseat Church

I’ve prayed in truck stops, I’ve sinned in bars, Lit a candle in the ashtray of this car. No stained glass, just a cracked windshield, But the road still listens when the wounds won’t heal.

This backseat church is all I know, Where the gospel’s diesel and the sermons roll. No preacher’s hand, no choir’s song, Just the road that keeps draggin’ me along.

I gave my tithe in blood and time, Paid my dues on broken lines. Every mile’s a psalm I sing, Every scar’s my offering.

This backseat church is all I know, Where the gospel’s diesel and the sermons roll. No preacher’s hand, no choir’s song, Just the road that keeps draggin’ me along.

If mercy’s hidin’, it ain’t in town, It rides the blacktop, it don’t kneel down.

This backseat church is all I know, Where the gospel’s diesel and the sermons roll. No preacher’s hand, no choir’s song, Just the road that keeps draggin’ me along.

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