A Funny Kind of Grace

Verse 1

There’s a Bel A. at the corner store, seafoam green and rust

The fins are throwing sunlight up in clouds of summer dust

And for a half a second there, my hand reaches for the dial

To find some grainy doo-wop station, try to make you smile

I see you tapping on the dashboard, drumming out the beat

As we go cruising through the town on sun-dazzled streets

Headlights burning in the twilight, another show is done

You were always in your element, beneath the setting sun

Chorus

And oh, the way you’d laugh

A sound that cut right through the noise

You were Sunday sermons, you were hot rod boys

You were mercy under pressure, a steady, certain aim

You were a funny kind of grace

I’ll never speak its name the same

Verse 2

I pulled your Bible from the nightstand, the cover soft with wear

The pages fell right open to a verse you’d underlined there

I remember you on Saturdays, heading for the county jail

With your stories of redemption and a hope that wouldn't fail

You'd walk through iron gates and find the human in the room

Find a way to make folks laugh and chase away the gloom

You never shouted down a soul, just held a steady hand

And talked of God like he was someone you could understand

Chorus

And oh, the way you’d laugh

A sound that cut right through the noise

You were Sunday sermons, you were hot rod boys

You were mercy under pressure, a steady, certain aim

You were a funny kind of grace

I’ll never speak its name the same

Bridge

Last night I dreamt we took the RV and just started driving west

Didn’t stop until the road ran out, to give our hearts a rest

We parked it on a sandy cliff and watched the water gleam

And I knew it was a memory living in a dream

But I could feel the salt-laced air, could hear the ocean’s call

And I just wanted one more drive with you, Rod, that was all

One more sunset, one more chapter, one more tank of gas to burn

Just one more quiet lesson I was ready now to learn

Final Chorus

And oh, I hear you laugh

A sound that cuts right through the quiet

You are Sunday sermons, you are hot rod riot

You are mercy under pressure, a love that staked its claim

You are a funny kind of grace

And I will always speak your name

Yeah, you’re a funny kind of grace

So I will always speak your name