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 (oh my lordy it's that...)
It's that of mornin'
was that kind of night
Tryin' to tell myself that my condition is
And if I don't die by thursday be roarin' friday night

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

All of a I wad'n alone
country music with ol' joe bones
Duval street was
My eyes they poppin'

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

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

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

I'm goin' down to fausto's get some chocolate
spend 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 that kinda
Really was kinda night
Tryin' to myself that my condition is improvin'
And if I don't die by thursday be roarin' friday night

Let me ya, I be roarin' friday night
I I'll be