The heretic is always better dead...
Saint Jimmy by Green Day blares across the arena...
St. Joey's coming down across the alleyway...
Up on the boulevard like a zip gun on parade...
Lights on the silhouette...
He's insubordinate...
Coming at you on the count of One, Two...
One, Two, Three, Four!
A single pyro goes off, and Saint Joey leaps onto the ramp!!
He lifts his arm, pointing upwards as he stands triumphantly on the stage!
My name is Joey and you better not wear it out
Suicide commando that your momma talked about
King of the forty theives
and I'm here to represent
The needle in the vein of the establishment
I'm the patron saint of denial
With an angel face and a taste for suicidal...
Joey runs to the ring, sliding in...
He slides to the centre of the ring, winking at a crowd member!
Cigarettes and ramen and a little bag of dope
I am the son of a b***h and edger allen poe
Raised in the city in the halo of lights
The product of war and fear that we've been victimized
I'm the patron saint of denial
With an angel face and a taste for suicidal...
He stands, climbing the turnbuckle and working the crowd!
ARE YOU TALKING TO ME?
He jumps down from the corner... taunting again for the crowd!
I'll give you something to cry about...
He waits for the opponent...
SAINT JOEY!
... And mortal eyes cannot distinguish the saint from the heretic.
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