Lord Help Me Be The Kind Of Person (My Dog Thinks I Am)

I try to get up every morning
with a smile and apply the golden ruel, But sometimes that old devil takes me,
and I go acting like a fool
Dear Jesus I keep trying to be perfect, but I’m just a mortal man,
Lord help me be the kind of person my dog thinks I am.
Sometimes I go to church on Sunday, with Saturday’s whiskey on my breath,
But I keep praying and promising to quit before I drink myself to death,
Help me walk the straight and narrow, change this light into a lamp,
Oh Lord help me be the kind of person my dog thinks I am.
I know he’s just a mud, but he don’t judge me when times get pretty hard,
He fetches me my bible, and there is my liquor in the yard,
I can feel your love inside me Lord and I know that I’ll be coming home someday.
When I do, I pray you will find a pair of wings for old Jake.
Now the preacher’s been really good to me, But I know who’s really been there
in a jam.
Lord help me be the kind of person my dog thinks I am,
Dear Lord help me be the kind of person my dog thinks I am.