Pulling Titles

I am the American Idiot.
I am the Jesus of Suburbia.
This is my City of the Damned, but I Don't Care.
You are my Dearly Beloved.
Are you listening?
My holidays are great, but they're followed by Tales of Another Broken Home.
Because of where I am, I walk on the Boulevard of Broken Dreams.
I walk alone.
I walk with my fists clenched at my side so I don't hurt anyone.
I walk with my head pointed at the ground because of the jealousy and rage and love.

Are we the Waiting?
We are the Waiting.

I am the waiting.
I am St. Jimmy.
I am whoever you want me to be.
I am not going to take this anymore.

But I do.
Give me Novocaine.
I can't take this.
I can't. I can't.
Don't make me.

Jimmy calls me a dickhead.
Mr. Two Dollar Bill.

I need my own mind.
I need to let myself go.
I need to go anywhere but here.

I'm in my corner of my own mind.
She's a rebel.
She's a saint.
Why does she run away?

Nobody likes you.
Everyone hates you.
They're all out without you.
Having fun.

With each other.

Don't fucking feel like that.
There is no fucking right for that.
No fucking right, do you hear me?
No. No.

Give me Novocaine.

She's an Extraordinary Girl.
She runs.

Where have all the martyrs gone?
Where is the underbelly?
Where are the holy scriptures of the shopping mall?

Covered up.
Just like everything else.

Underneath that paint is St. Jimmy's own scarlet.
St. Jimmy knows what to do.
Mr. Two Dollar Bill.

Give me Novocaine.

Wake Me Up When September Ends.
September arrives too soon in October.
Count by ides for me, will you?

Now he's dead to me.
He blew his brains out and I helped.
The ides arrived too soon, Mr. Two Dollar Bill.
Let the seagulls have him.

Am I the one stuck in the rain with the shallow dreams of hope?
Why are my hopes in the short end of the pool?
He was the light in the beginning.
My ticket out.
My way gone.
Now he's gone.

I couldn't be prouder.

She's gone.
No. No. No.
She's not allowed to be.
I just wanted to get my life together.

I had a job.
I had security.
I had a way to live.
I worked at East 12th Street and allowed you to live.
But I guess it wasn't rebellious enough.

She left with the words ringing in my head.
You've become what you've hated.
Nobody likes you.
Everyone hates you.
They're all out without you,
having fun.

No.

I need my coffee break.

After ten cups of coffee, you're still not here.
You're gone.

No.

I need you.

You opened your eyes and didn't like me.

I love you.

Where'd you go?

Thank you for that peace of inspiration Tully.
I don't know where to go.
I'm stuck between my home and my vacation home of freedom.
It would be more obvious but I can't think like that.

I am the son of rage and love.
The Jesus of Suburbia.
I'll always be a great memory.
Where'd you go?

Home.
We're coming home again.

I'm running until my lungs burst and crash in on themselves.
Until the saliva runs try and I choke on my own air.
I'm running until both the shoes and my soul have nothing.

I'm hitting the ground running.

I'm coming home.

---------------

You left.
I thought I saw you.
You were as clear as day.
Why?
Was it a dream?
A daydream?
Is it the Starbucks or the paint fumes?

I don't remember your name.
Your face I'll never forget.

I love Whatsername.
I love you.



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Yeah not really original in terms of idea but whatever.