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
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
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 night
My Head Hurts, My Feet Stink And I Don't Love Jesus Lyrics performed by Jimmy Buffett are property and copyright of the authors, artists and labels. You should note that My Head Hurts, My Feet Stink And I Don't Love Jesus Lyrics performed by Jimmy Buffett is only provided for educational purposes only and if you like the song you should buy the CD