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Album: American Idiot Written by Billie Joe Armstrong St. Jimmys comin down across the alleyway Up on the boulevard like a zip gun on parade Light of a silhouette Hes insubordinate Coming at you on the count of 1,2,1,2,3,4! My name is Jimmy and you better not wear it out Suicide commando that your momma talked about King of the forty theives And Im here to represent That needle in the vein of the establishment Im the patron saint of the denial With an angel face and a taste for suicidal Cigarettes and ramen and a little bag of dope I am the son of a bitch and Edgar Allen Poe Raised in the city under a halo of lights The product of war and fear that weve been victimized Im the patron saint of the denial With an angel face and a taste for suicidal ARE YOU TALKING TO ME? Ill give you something to cry about. ST. JIMMY! My name is St. Jimmy Im a son of a gun Im the one thats from the way outside Im a teenage assassin executing some fun In the cult of the life of crime. I really hate to say it but I told you so So shut your mouth before I shoot you down old boy Welcome to the club and give me some blood And the resident leader at the lost and found Its comedy and tragedy Its St. Jimmy And thats my nameeeeeee...and dont wear it out! |
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