Text
[Verse]
Every Sunday morning, just as dawn would break,
Grandpa'd wash his hands and head down to the lake,
Whisperin' his secrets to the sky so blue,
He said that's the place where God listens true.
[Verse 2]
Gathered in the chapel, worn and weather-torn,
Grandma played the organ, hymnal pages worn,
Candles flickered gently, casting shadows wide,
In that little country church, faith wouldn't hide.
[Chorus]
Grandpa's old church, where memories reside,
Mornings full of love, with the Lord by our side,
Echoes of the sermons, still ring in my ears,
In that simple wooden pew, we faced all our fears.
[Verse 3]
The preacher's voice was steady, like a calm, sure hand,
Guiding us to places that we didn't understand,
Windows bathed in sunlight, colors rich and deep,
A sanctuary promised, for when we fall asleep.
[Chorus]
Grandpa's old church, where memories reside,
Mornings full of love, with the Lord by our side,
Echoes of the sermons, still ring in my ears,
In that simple wooden pew, we faced all our fears.
[Bridge]
Now the pews are empty, dust on every seat,
Silence in the air, where hallowed hearts would meet,
But the spirits linger, in each corner, in each wall,
Whisperin' the secrets that we once heard call.