Andy Gullahorn Holy Ground
A good half-inch of dust had built up on the pews
There were pieces missing from the stained glass dove
There was a broken lock on one of the basement doors
You could open if you pushed it hard enough
It was wintertime
The streets were cold as hell
They laid their sleeping bags
Along the altar rail
It was holy ground
It was holy ground
It was holy ground
As the word got out the sanctuary filled
With folks who had no other place to call their home
At night they’d share a meal and pass a bottle around
Something they were all accustomed to alone
The piano’s out of tune
Some keys don’t even work
But one guy could play a song
Out of the hymnal book
It was holy ground
It was holy ground
It was holy ground
The local priest soon got word
Of the vagrants in the empty church
He was told to go to the house of God
And clear them out because after all
It was holy ground
He was met at the door by a man with open arms
Saying “welcome to the one place we belong”
He saw the shiny floors beneath the sleeping bags
He could hear the sound of laughter down the hall
Later on that night
As they broke the bread
He asked them if there’s room
For an extra bed
‘cause it was holy ground
It was holy ground
It was holy ground
