Luyện nghe bài hát My Head Hurts, My Feet Stink, & I Don't Love Jesus

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By: buffett

My head hurts, my feet stink, and I don't love jesus (oh my lordy that...)
It's kind of mornin'
Really was that of night
Tryin' to myself that my condition is improvin'
And if I don't die by I'll be roarin' friday night

Went to the snake pit
To a little beer
to the jukebox
Merle was in clear

All of a I wad'n alone
Pickin' music with ol' joe bones
Duval was rockin'
My eyes starting poppin'

there she sat at the corner of the bar
As I another string on my ol' guitar
call a cab
Lady pay my tab

And now my head hurts, my feet stink, and I love jesus
(oh my it's that...)
It's that mornin'
was that kinda night
Tryin' to tell myself that my is improvin'
And if I don't die by thursday I'll be roarin' night

get a little orange juice
And a for my head
I spend all day
Baby in the bed

I'm goin' down to fausto's get chocolate milk
Can't spend my life in yer of silk
I've got to my way
out and greet the day

But now my head hurts, my stink, and I don't love jesus
(oh my lordy that...)
that kinda mornin'
Really was that kinda
Tryin' to myself that my condition is improvin'
And if I don't die by thursday I'll be roarin' night

Let me tell ya, I be roarin' night
I mean be