Lord Help Me Be The Person

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I try to get up every morning, with a smile, and apply the golden rule,
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But sometimes that old devil tempts me, and I go acting like a fool,
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Dear Jesus I keep trying to be perfect, but I'm just a mortal man,
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Lord help me be the kinda person, my dog thinks I am.

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Sometimes I go to church on Sunday, with Saturday's whiskey on my breath,
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But I keep praying and a promising to quit before I drink myself to death,
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Help me walk the straight and narrow, change this light into a lamp,
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Oh Lord help me be the kinda person, my dog thinks I am.

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    I know he's just a mutt, but he don't judge me, when times get pretty hard,
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    You betcha he's my bible, he buries my liquor in the yard.

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I can feel your love inside me Lord and I know that I'll be coming home someday,
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When I do I pray you'll find a pair of wings, for old Jake,
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Now the preacher's been real good to me but I know whose really been there in a jamb,
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Lord help me be the kinda person, my dog thinks I am.

      D                                                G                 D G
Dear Lord help me be the kinda person, my dog thinks I am.

Cifra adaptada de fontes públicas. Direitos da composição pertencem aos autores e gravadoras originais. Esta página é parte do projeto educacional Mania de Músico.