Headin' out the door, from important work,
Bobby felt too used.
Hopped into the seat of his silver Porshe,
Hit his head, scraped his alligator shoes.
Got stuck in rampant traffic,
Then his load overheated; he got a flat.
On the side of the road,
With his car, high up on on a jack,
Scraped his knuckles,
Hurt his back.
And then down on his knees,
He yelled, "Lord help me please!"
No answer fallin' from the sky.
I'm here to tell you why...
Jesus got a headache,
And it's not helping his cause.
Jesus got a headache,
He ain't takin' no calls.
So if you're in need,
You're in trouble, indeed.
Jesus got a headache,
He ain't doin' so good.
[telephone voice] Call back later please...
Bobby made it home,
Opened the door
To his ice box bin.
Took no prisoners,
Threw off, his alligators,
Waited for the coma -- to set in.
Finally, Bobby's life,
made sense to him.
The rest was just, a bunch of crap,
He was happy with that,
He never looked back,
but now he ain't around.
Jesus got a headache,
And it's killing his cause.
Jesus got a headache,
He ain't takin' no calls.
So if you're in need,
You're in trouble, indeed.
I guess, what I'm saying is,
Everybody gets the blues,
Jesus got the blues.
And "He" says:
"Can't you get your own life?
I'm not your father,
I ain't your mother.
I am not your sister.
I am not your brother.
Put down the phone,
And leave me alone."
And then Jesus says,
holding his head,
"Call me most anytime,
but, not tonight."
Jesus got a headache.
Tonight.
