You heard the bright lights calling
Many years ago
You never came back crawling
How you hung in there I don't know

You're at home in the big town
You got it all figured out
Back home they can't believe it
They don't know what you're about

Your sister loves Jesus
She drives an Oldsmobile
Says you ought to come visit
Says what you need is a home-cooked meal

(chorus)
And she prays for your poor lost soul
And she prays for your poor lost soul

Your brother was a doctor
They sent him to the pen
Medicare fraud
They say he's doing it again

Your mother's doing all right
She owns a Quik-Stop store
She used to call every Sunday
But she doesn't anymore
And she prays for your poor lost soul
And she prays for your poor lost soul

Sometimes you got to wonder
How it all would've been
And you wonder if you had to
Could you go back again

You fly home for Christmas dinner
It's just like the good old days
Fighting with your mom
Fighting with your sister
Your brother had sense
So he stayed away

Back home in the big town
You got it all figured out
And isn't it a comfort knowing
Without a doubt

They'll be praying for your poor lost soul
They'll be praying for your poor lost soul
They'll be praying for your poor lost soul
They'll be praying for your poor lost soul