1.08.2005

Jesus of Surburbia
i'm the son of rage and love
the jesus of suburbia
from the bible of "none of the above"
on a steady diet of soda pop and ritalin
no one ever dies for my sins in hell
as far as i can tell
at least the ones i got away with
but there's nothing wrong with me
this is how i'm supposed to be
in the land of make believe
they don't believe in me
get my television fix sitting on my crucifix
the living room in my private womb
while the mom's and brad's are away
to fall in love and fall in debt
to alcohol and cigarettes and mary jane
to keep me insane and doing someone else's cocaine
and there's nothing wrong with me
this is how i'm supposed to be
in the land of make believe
they don't believe in me

St. Jimmy
St. Jimmy's coming down across the alleyway
Upon the blvd, like a zip gon on parade
Light of a silhouette, he's insubordinate
Coming at you on the count of 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 40 thieves and I'm here to represent
The needle in the vein of the establishment.
I'm 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 Allan Poe.
Raised in the city under a halo of lights.
The product of war and fear that we've been victimized.
ARE YOU TALKING TO ME?
My name is St. Jimmy.
I'm a son of a gun
I'm the one that's from the way outside
I'm a teenage assassin executing some fun
In the cult of life of crime.
I'd really hate to say it but, I told you so
So shut your mouth before I shoot you down dl'boy
Welcome to the club and give me some blood.
I'm the resident leader of the lost and found
It's comedy and tragedy.
It's St. Jimmy and that's my name don't wear it out.


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