This is the twenty-first installment in the Songs of Sacrilege series. This is a series that I would like readers to help me with. If you know of a song that is irreverent towards religion, makes fun of religion, pokes fun at sincerely held religious beliefs, or challenges the firmly held religious beliefs of others, please leave the name the song in the comment section or send me an email.
Today’s Song of Sacrilege is My Head Hurts, My Feet Stink, and I Don’t Love Jesus by Jimmy Buffett, an American singer–songwriter.
My head hurts, my feet stink, and I don’t love Jesus.
It’s that kind of mornin’,
really was that kind of night.
Tryin’ to tell myself that my
condition is improvin’ and if I don’t
die by Thursday I’ll be roarin’ Friday night.
Went down to the snake pit,
to drink a little beer.
Listened to the juke box,
oh, it’s comin’ in clear.
All of a sudden I wasn’t alone
pickin’ country music with old Joe Bones.
Duval Street was rockin’,
my eyes they started poppin’!
Because there she sat at the corner of the bar,
as I broke another string on my old guitar.
Someone call a cab.
Lady won’t you pay my tab?
Got to get a little orange juice,
And a Darvon for my head.
I can’t spend all day,
Baby, layin’ in bed.
I’m goin’ down to Fausto’s
to get some chocolate milk.
Can’t spend my life in your sheets of silk
I’ve got to find my way
Crawl out and greet the day.