Our little church bought a limousine
And ferried southside kids to Burger King
For breakfast before heading up the hill.
We’d sing a song or two or three and spill
Some orange juice on ourselves and cry, then laugh
When seeing sparrows on the flannel graph.
I thought it strange that our chauffeur could give
Us all a lesson on how to die and live
While speeding through the morning countryside –
We used to call it God’s Miracle Ride.