I met a fat black mama on Sunday And she told me one thing She said, "You got the soul little brother" "And you can play on those strings" "But you got to give up on the stuff" "Cos it'll get in the way" I said, "Mama I know you're right" "In everything that you say" But I'm a bad son And I ain't gonna change for anyone I'm a bad son And I ain't gonna change for anyone I've heard the gospel choir sing About the beauty of God I've felt the force of the whiskey sting And that's the closest I've got Well I know that your intentions are good But what's the use in you trying? Cos I'm damned to be misunderstood So what's the use in you crying? Cos I'm a bad son And I ain't gonna change for anyone I'm a bad son And I ain't gonna change for anyone Cos I'm a bad son And I ain't gonna change for anyone I'm a bad son And I ain't gonna change for anyone