Jimmy Buffett – My Head Hurts My Feet Stink And I Dont Love Jesus (Guitar)

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Words and Music by Jimmy Buffett [Intro] Em A7 D G Em A7 D G [Chorus]
   G              A7                C          G
My head hurts, my feet stink, and I don't love Jesus

G                  A7              C                    D
 It's that kind of mornin', really was that kind of night.

C                                 G      D/F#   Em      Em7
 Try'n to tell myself  that my condition is   improvin', and if

A7                               C       D      G
I don't die  by Thursday I'll be roarin' Friday night.
[Verse 1]
                 D                               G
Went down to the Snake Pit,    to drink a little beer.

                D                              G
Listened to the juke box,  oh it was comin' in clear.

Em
All of a sudden I wasn't alone

A7
Pickin' country music with old Joe Bones.

D
Duval Street was rock - in',

   D7
my eyes they started  poppin'! Because

Em
There she sat at the corner of the bar, as I

A7
Broke another string on my ol' guitar.

D
Someone call a cab.

D7
Lady, won'tcha pay my tab?
[Chorus]
          G              A7                C          G
And no my head hurts, my feet stink, and I don't love Jesus,

G                  A7              C                    D
 It's that kind of mornin', really was that kind of night.

C                                G       D/F#   Em
 Try'n to tell myself that my condition  is   improvin', and if

A7                              C       D          G
I don't die by Thursday I'll be roarin' Friday night.
[Verse 2]
                    D                                 G
Gotta  get a little orange juice, and a Darvon for my head.

              D                                 G
I can't spend all day,     ba-by lay-in' in the bed.

            Em
I'm goin' down to Fausto's to get some chocolate milk,

      A7
Can't spend my life in your sheets of silk.

     D
I've got to find my way,

D7
Crawl out and greet the day.
[Chorus]
            G              A7                C          G
But, now my head hurts, my feet stink, and I don't love Jesus,

G                  A7              C                D
 It's that kind of mornin', really was that kind of night.

C                                G      D/F#  Em      Em7
 Try'n to tell myself that my condition is  improvin', and if

A7                              C       D          G
I don't die by Thursday I'll be roarin' Friday night, lemme tell ya,
[Outro]
        C       D       G
I'll be roarin' Friday night, I may not be

C           D         G
Roar - in'  Fri - day night.