Lord Help Me Be the Kind of Person (My Dog Thinks I Am) Songtext
von The Bellamy Brothers

I try to get up every morning
With a smile and apply the Golden Rule
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 mutt,
But he don't judge me when times get pretty hard,
He fetches my Bible,
And buries 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′ll find a pair of wings for old Jake.

Now the preacher′s been real 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.