Songwriters: Pritchard, Michael; Wright, Frank E., Iii; Armstrong, Billie Joe
St. Jimmy's coming down across the alleyway
Up on the boulevard like a zip gun on parade
Lights of a silhouette
He's insubordinate, coming at you on the count of
One, two, one, two, three, four
My name is Jimmy and you better not wear it out
Suicide commando that your momma talked about
King of the forty 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 rum in hand and a little bag of dope
I am the son of a bitch and Edgar Allen Poe
Raised in the city in a halo of lights
The product of war and fear that we've been victimized
I'm the patron saint of the denial
With an angel face and a taste for suicidal
Are you talking to me?
I'll give you something to cry about
St. Jimmy
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 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
I'm the resident leader at the lost and found
It's comedy and tragedy
It's St. Jimmy and that's my name
And don't wear it out
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