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

By: buffett


My hurts, my feet stink, and I don't love jesus (oh my lordy it's that...)
It's that kind of
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

down to the snake pit
To drink a little
to the jukebox
Merle was in clear

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

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...)
It's that kinda
Really was that kinda
Tryin' to tell that my condition is improvin'
And if I don't die by thursday I'll be roarin' night

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

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

But now my head hurts, my feet stink, and I don't love
(oh my it's that...)
It's kinda mornin'
Really was kinda night
Tryin' to tell myself 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 I'll be