Ghosts on the Gospel Dial

[Intro – Distant gospel choir fades in, vinyl crackle, Rhodes piano] I turned the dial past the static… and they answered. Didn’t need no preacher. Just memory. They sang slow. I listened slower. [Verse 1 – Rap, soft and reverent] Grandmama’s hands still echo on the frame, Every prayer she whispered still callin’ my name. She hummed to the dirt like the soil could speak, And the corn knew her touch like a child on the cheek. I hear her voice in the hiss between chords, In the wood of the pew, in the crack of the boards. She ain’t gone — she just moved to a song, That plays on the wind when the days feel long. [Hook – Gospel choir sample or soulful vocalist] There are ghosts on the gospel dial, Singing hymns in the southern style. They ain't lost, they just floatin' near, In the hum of the choir, in the fall of a tear. Voices rise like the old pine moans, They built this house and they never gone. Ghosts on the dial — let the static sing, Let the spirits talk through the broken ring. [Verse 2 – Rap, narrative and grounded] My uncle left early but he walks in my stride, Taught me how to shoot straight, and look pain in the eye. They say his blues bled into the porch floor, Played that bottleneck slide like it was folklore. The chains don’t clink but they still hang deep, Round ankles of names the world let sleep. So I rhyme for the ones who ain't get their line, Who worked whole lives and stayed confined. [Hook – Repeat with harmonies and soft sax accent] There are ghosts on the gospel dial, Singing hymns in the southern style. They ain't lost, they just floatin' near, In the hum of the choir, in the fall of a tear. Voices rise like the old pine moans, They built this house and they never gone. Ghosts on the dial — let the static sing, Let the spirits talk through the broken ring. [Solo Trumpet] [Bridge – Spoken word over solo piano] They live in the hush before the beat drops. They sit in the pews we don’t see. They hold the rhythm in our bones… And we dance without knowing why. [Verse 3 – Rap, final and reflective] I ride with the radio low — not off, just hushed, Like the spirits might break through if I listen enough. I seen ghosts in the cotton, ghosts in the field, In the calloused hands that never got healed. So I rhyme for them — the unpraised saints, With no stained glass, just sweat and restraints. You want truth? Turn the dial, feel the air, They still hummin’ that freedom in the gospel glare. [Final Hook – Full choir backing, ambient fade] There are ghosts on the gospel dial, Singing hymns in the southern style. They ain't lost, they just floatin' near, In the hum of the choir, in the fall of a tear. Voices rise like the old pine moans, They built this house and they never gone. Ghosts on the dial — let the static sing, Let the spirits talk through the broken ring. [Outro – Saxophone solo, faint AM static, choir fades] I tuned in by accident… But I stayed for the truth. And now they speak through every rhyme I write.