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...)
that kind of mornin'
Really was kind of night
Tryin' to tell myself my condition is improvin'
And if I don't die by thursday I'll be friday night

Went to the snake pit
To drink a beer
Listen to the
Merle was in clear

All of a sudden I alone
country music with ol' joe bones
Duval was rockin'
My eyes they starting

Because she sat at the corner of the bar
As I broke another on my ol' guitar
Someone a cab
won'tcha pay my tab

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

Gotta get a little orange
And a darvon for my
I can't all day
Baby in the bed

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

But now my head hurts, my feet stink, and I don't love
(oh my lordy that...)
It's that kinda
Really was kinda night
to tell myself that my condition is improvin'
And if I don't die by thursday be roarin' friday night

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