My Head Hurts My Feet Stink And I Dont Love Jesus

(início)

G                         A                         C      G
My head hurts, my feet stink, and I don't love Jesus (oh my lordy it's that...)
               A
It's that kind of mornin'
C                 D
Really was that kind of night
C                                  G             Em
Tryin' to tell myself that my condition is improvin'
         A                              A7               D              D7        G
And if I don't die by Thursday I'll be roarin' Friday night
                      D
Went down to the snake pit
             G
To drink a little beer
         D
Listen to the jukebox
                     G
Merle was comin' in clear
Em
All of a sudden I wad'n alone
A
Pickin' country music with ol' Joe Bones
D
Duval Street was rockin'
D7
My eyes they starting poppin'
                Em
Because there she sat at the corner of the bar
       A
As I broke another string on my ol' guitar
D
Someone call a cab
D7
Lady won'tcha pay my tab
Chorus:
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
Chorus:
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