now, the prodigal son was a forward child, his mind was not to obey

but after he left his father’s house he thought he had gone astray

i believe i believe that i will go back home

i believe i believe that i will go back home

i believe i believe i that i will go back home

and be a servant of the Lord

his father saw him coming he met him with a smile

he threw his arms around him saying this is my darling child

chorus

the prodigal said, i searched for true religion, but to peace and no faith could i find

until i came to a little place called Bakersfield, that eased my troublin’ mind

chorus

i wandered into a tavern where a music band was playin’

the steel guitar rang out so sweet, i feel like i was prayin’

i asked a comely waitress, is this a new teaching

she said there is no God but God, and Ralph Mooney is his name

let me empty your ashtray, Mr. Mooney, if the drunks interfere i’ll be sad

but just as long as you sit there on the bandstand and play your guitar like Buddha, i’ll be glad

the father asked the prodigal, did you smell the sweet perfume and hear the angel band?

he said, dim lights, thick smoke, and loud, loud music is the only kind of truth i’ll ever understand

the prodigal son