My Head Hurts, My Feet Stink and I Don't Love Jesus Jimmy Buffett
My Head Hurts, My Feet Stink, and I Don?t Love Jesus Jimmy Buffett
Chorus:
[G]My head hurts, my feet sti[A]nk, and I don't love Jesus[C] (oh my[G] lordy it's that...)
It's that kind [A]of mornin'
[C]Really was that ki[D]nd of night
[C]Tryin' to tell myself that my condi[G]tion is improv[Em]in'
And if I [A]don't die by Thursday I'll be r[A7]oarin' Friday nig[D]ht [D7] [G]
Went down to the snake[D] pit
To drink a li[G]ttle beer
Listen to[D] the jukebox
Merle was comin' in c[G]lear
[Em]All of a sudden I wad'n alone
[A]Pickin' country music with ol' Joe Bones
[D]Duval Street was rockin'
[D7]My eyes they starting poppin'
Because there sh[Em]e sat at the corner of the bar
As I br[A]oke another string on my ol' guitar
[D]Someone call a cab
[D7]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
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