the death of st.jimmy
my heart is beating from me
i'm standing all alone
please call me only if you are coming home
waste another year likes by
waste a night or two
you taught me how to live
in the streets of shame
where you've lost your dreams in the rain
there's no signs of hope
the stems and seeds
of the last of the dope
there's a glow of light
the st.jimmy is the spark in the night
bearing gifts and trust
the fixture in the city of lust
what the hell's your name
do you dream too much
do you think what you need is a cruth
in the crowd of pain
st.jimmy comes without any shame
he says we're ****ed up
but we're not the same
and mom and dad are the ones you can blame
jimmy died today
he blew his brains out into the bay
in the state of mind
in my own private *******
A fEW ThInGS TO REmEmBeR:
Traditionally, songwriters can't sing. And that holds true in my case, also.
I may not be a first-rate composer, but I am a first-class second-rate composer.
I always said that I'm not the best singer in the world, just the loudest
Get up from that piano. You hurtin' its feelings.
God tells me how the music should sound, but you stand in the way.
There are more bad musicians than there is bad music.