My Head Hurts, My Feet Stink, and I Donât Love Jesus Jimmy Buffett
Chorus:
My head hurts, my feet stink, and I don t love Jesus (oh my lordy it s that...)
It s that kind of mornin
Really was that kind of night
Tryin to tell myself that my condition is improvin
And if I don t die by Thursday I ll be roarin Friday night
Went down to the snake pit
To drink a little beer
Listen to the jukebox
Merle was comin in clear
All of a sudden I wad n alone
Pickin country music with ol Joe Bones
Duval Street was rockin
My eyes they starting poppin
Because there she sat at the corner of the bar
As I broke another string on my ol guitar
Someone call a cab
Lady won tcha pay my tab
Chorus:
And now my head hurts, my feet stink, and I don t love Jesus
(oh my lordy it s that...)
It s that kinda mornin
Really was that kinda night
Tryin to tell myself that my condition is improvin
And if I don t die by Thursday I ll be roarin Friday night
Gotta get a little orange juice
And a Darvon for my head
I can t spend all day
Baby layin in the bed
I m goin down to Fausto s get some chocolate milk
Can t spend my life in yer sheets of silk
I ve got to find my way
Crawl out and greet the day
Chorus:
But now my head hurts, my feet stink, and I don t love Jesus
(oh my lordy it s that...)
It s that kinda mornin
Really was that kinda night
Tryin to tell myself that my condition is improvin
And if I don t die by Thursday I ll be roarin Friday night
Let me tell ya, I be roarin Friday night
I mean I ll be
Roarin
Friday