Foxhole Gospel Americana | Dark war-born faith

A veteran remembers the night the shells fell and doubt died.

There are no atheists in a foxhole.

Baritone acoustic driving through Drop D, clean electric arpeggios like distant flares, floor tom heartbeat artillery.

When death is incoming, every man reaches for a psalm.

For anyone who's ever prayed when they swore they never would.

#FoxholeGospel #DarkAmericana #NoAtheistsInAFoxhole #WarFaith #GothicCountry

No Atheists in a Foxhole

I’m heading for the back road, shoes heavy in the dust
I’m heading for the back road, shoes heavy in the dust
Every thought I carry keeps circlin’ back to us

Standin’ still, askin’ myself what a small bag can hold
Standin’ still, askin’ myself what a small bag can hold
I don’t own much of nothin’, but the night’s already cold

Hey now, darlin’, tell me who decides your days
Hey now, darlin’, tell me who decides your days
I keep speakin’ out loud hopin’ someone rearrange

I know someone uptown always busy with her hands
I know someone uptown always busy with her hands
If she don’t slow that motion, she won’t hear where I stand

I don’t fear the promise, I just fear the ground
I don’t fear the promise, I just fear the ground
So I preach to my reflection and keep driftin’ town to town

I’m leavin’ here quietly, tears won’t pull me back
I’m leavin’ here quietly, tears won’t pull me back
Every word you lean on just widens up the track

Rimmel

Francesco De Gregori