Sunday Psalms and Psilocybin Episode 1 - Tripping With Dad Road Anthem

Wasi River Bluegrass / BridgeIncluded.ca

northern country, bluegrass, cinematic folk

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V5.5

[warm AM radio static, banjo and fiddle swell]

Good Sunday morning, river people, gravel sinners, and operators of uncertain machinery.  
You’re tuned to the Blueprint Bluegrass Gospel Hour, 1090 AM on your dial, 24-hour faith, mud, and machinery.

Broadcasting live from somewhere between the Wasi River and a half-finished access road,  
where the coffee is strong, the frost is heaving, and the Lord still returns your calls.

This morning’s service is brought to you by Neil Jones Construction:  
If the Lord made the mountain, Neil Jones brought the loader,  
and somewhere in between, we all try not to get the truck stuck.

Today’s message: Tripping With Dad —  
a backroad meditation on grace, grease, late-summer thunder,  
and the saving power of a half-ton faith hauling more than it should.

[sung jingle, bluegrass gospel harmony]
Sunday psalms and psilocybin,  
Blueprint stories on the air,  
We saw halos in the headlight mist,  
and a diesel saying prayer.

Dad packed quads and the boat up,  
Truck squatted on the springs,  
We chased a road to nowhere  
with a bush map and some wings.

[spoken sermon, gentle mandolin picking]
Now friends, maybe you remember that first run north with your old man,  
rod tips rattlin’ in the window gap, cooler hummin’ like a hymn in the back.  
The sky low and heavy, that kind of August grey that smells like rain and pine sap.

He didn’t preach with many words,  
he preached with tie-down straps, baling wire, and a box of mixed nuts and bolts,  
showing you how far you can bend a rule before the Lord and gravity both object.

You can draw your risk assessments on the back of a bait receipt,  
you can see visions of smooth hauls on a washboard road,  
but until somebody eases that overloaded Duramax into first,  
all you’ve got is a cabin booked and a boy waiting to grow up.

[sung call-and-response, congregation-style]
Leader: When the soft spot grabs your trailer—  
Choir: Feather throttle, let it crawl.  
Leader: When the rain comes down much paler—  
Choir: Say a prayer and give it haul.

[Chorus]
Sunday psalms and psilocybin,  
Blueprint stories on the air,  
We saw halos in the headlight mist,  
and a diesel saying prayer.

Dad packed quads and the boat up,  
Truck squatted on the springs,  
We chased a road to nowhere  
with a bush map and some wings.

[spoken sermon, fiddle pads]
Some of you out there, you’re rememberin’ that first big fish morning,  
fog lifting off the lake like a curtain in God’s own theatre,  
your dad’s hands sure on the tiller, coffee steam haloing his ball cap.

Bass beds under tall pines,  
loons calling like they’re laughing at your city balance sheet,  
and that old aluminum boat loaded down like a homemade road train of hopes and half-tightened bolts.

You hit the first washout too fast,  
quad ramps chattering, hitch groaning hymns,  
front end shimmying like Pentecost,  
and somehow it all stayed in the lane.

That’s what we call expanded perception, friends.  
Not for getting lost — for waking up.  
A holy reminder that rivers deserve respect,  
that every shortcut wants its toll.

[sung, softer gospel tone]
When the thunder rolls behind you,  
and the ruts all shimmer strange,  
Lift your eyes up to the tree line,  
mark your path and gauge the range.

[Chorus]
Sunday psalms and psilocybin,  
Blueprint stories on the air,  
We saw halos in the headlight mist,  
and a diesel saying prayer.

Dad packed quads and the boat up,  
Truck squatted on the springs,  
We chased a road to nowhere  
with a bush map and some wings.

[spoken tag, warm announcer]
This portion of the Blueprint Bluegrass Gospel Hour is brought to you by Neil Jones Construction:  
Driveways, drainage, gravel, grading, and occasional miracles.

Neil Jones Construction — measure twice, pray once,  
and bring a machine big enough to mean it.

[sung jingle reprise, full harmony]
Warm rain drumming on the tarp top,  
muddy spray along the lanes,  
Seven-oh-five, four-seven-one, twenty-nine thirty-six,  
from the river to the range.

If your hope’s hung up and spinning,  
and your joy’s stuck in the clay,  
Neil Jones Construction eases out,  
chains you gentle on your way.

[spoken benediction]
From the Wasi River flats to the last camp road in the bush,  
may your tie-downs hold true, may your bearings run cool,  
may your river crossings stay shallow, and your judgment deeper.

May your fathers teach in quiet ways, through shovels, straps, and second chances,  
may your memories ride shotgun, and your faith ride in the cab.

This is the Blueprint Bluegrass Gospel Hour, signing off till next Sunday.  
Keep your hymns in the heart, your tires on the gravel,  
and your eyes on the grade.

[banjo lick, fiddle slide, distant thunder, tape warble, end]

4772/7500

[warm AM radio static, banjo and fiddle swell] Good Sunday morning, river people, gravel sinners, and operators of uncertain machinery. You’re tuned to the Blueprint Bluegrass Gospel Hour, 1090 AM on your dial, 24-hour faith, mud, and machinery. Broadcasting live from somewhere between the Wasi River and a half-finished access road, where the coffee is strong, the frost is heaving, and the Lord still returns your calls. This morning’s service is brought to you by Neil Jones Construction: If the Lord made the mountain, Neil Jones brought the loader, and somewhere in between, we all try not to get the truck stuck. Today’s message: Tripping With Dad — a backroad meditation on grace, grease, late-summer thunder, and the saving power of a half-ton faith hauling more than it should. [sung jingle, bluegrass gospel harmony] Sunday psalms and psilocybin, Blueprint stories on the air, We saw halos in the headlight mist, and a diesel saying prayer. Dad packed quads and the boat up, Truck squatted on the springs, We chased a road to nowhere with a bush map and some wings. [spoken sermon, gentle mandolin picking] Now friends, maybe you remember that first run north with your old man, rod tips rattlin’ in the window gap, cooler hummin’ like a hymn in the back. The sky low and heavy, that kind of August grey that smells like rain and pine sap. He didn’t preach with many words, he preached with tie-down straps, baling wire, and a box of mixed nuts and bolts, showing you how far you can bend a rule before the Lord and gravity both object. You can draw your risk assessments on the back of a bait receipt, you can see visions of smooth hauls on a washboard road, but until somebody eases that overloaded Duramax into first, all you’ve got is a cabin booked and a boy waiting to grow up. [sung call-and-response, congregation-style] Leader: When the soft spot grabs your trailer— Choir: Feather throttle, let it crawl. Leader: When the rain comes down much paler— Choir: Say a prayer and give it haul. [Chorus] Sunday psalms and psilocybin, Blueprint stories on the air, We saw halos in the headlight mist, and a diesel saying prayer. Dad packed quads and the boat up, Truck squatted on the springs, We chased a road to nowhere with a bush map and some wings. [spoken sermon, fiddle pads] Some of you out there, you’re rememberin’ that first big fish morning, fog lifting off the lake like a curtain in God’s own theatre, your dad’s hands sure on the tiller, coffee steam haloing his ball cap. Bass beds under tall pines, loons calling like they’re laughing at your city balance sheet, and that old aluminum boat loaded down like a homemade road train of hopes and half-tightened bolts. You hit the first washout too fast, quad ramps chattering, hitch groaning hymns, front end shimmying like Pentecost, and somehow it all stayed in the lane. That’s what we call expanded perception, friends. Not for getting lost — for waking up. A holy reminder that rivers deserve respect, that every shortcut wants its toll. [sung, softer gospel tone] When the thunder rolls behind you, and the ruts all shimmer strange, Lift your eyes up to the tree line, mark your path and gauge the range. [Chorus] Sunday psalms and psilocybin, Blueprint stories on the air, We saw halos in the headlight mist, and a diesel saying prayer. Dad packed quads and the boat up, Truck squatted on the springs, We chased a road to nowhere with a bush map and some wings. [spoken tag, warm announcer] This portion of the Blueprint Bluegrass Gospel Hour is brought to you by Neil Jones Construction: Driveways, drainage, gravel, grading, and occasional miracles. Neil Jones Construction — measure twice, pray once, and bring a machine big enough to mean it. [sung jingle reprise, full harmony] Warm rain drumming on the tarp top, muddy spray along the lanes, Seven-oh-five, four-seven-one, twenty-nine thirty-six, from the river to the range. If your hope’s hung up and spinning, and your joy’s stuck in the clay, Neil Jones Construction eases out, chains you gentle on your way. [spoken benediction] From the Wasi River flats to the last camp road in the bush, may your tie-downs hold true, may your bearings run cool, may your river crossings stay shallow, and your judgment deeper. May your fathers teach in quiet ways, through shovels, straps, and second chances, may your memories ride shotgun, and your faith ride in the cab. This is the Blueprint Bluegrass Gospel Hour, signing off till next Sunday. Keep your hymns in the heart, your tires on the gravel, and your eyes on the grade. [banjo lick, fiddle slide, distant thunder, tape warble, end]

0/500