Jerusalem on the Jukebox, they talk in tongues on Coronation Street

Heaven help the Pharisee whose halo has slipped down to his feet

A thousand satellite comedians have died for your sins

Jerusalem on the jukebox, little angels, beat your wings



At poolside picnics they chant for Ferraris and furs

Their muscle-tone sharpens but their hold on reality blurs

You can have your cake and eat it, and never have to puke up a thing

Jerusalem on the jukebox, little angels, beat your wings



In the bathroom mirror they try that Joan of Arc look again

Two parts Ingrid Bergman to one part Shirley MacLaine

The wounds of time kill you but the surgeon's knife only stings

Jerusalem on the jukebox, little angels, beat your wings



In video-suburbia the blue light flickers and flames

Ecstasy and holy blackmail are the favorite games

And God has the sharpest suit and the cleanest chin

Jerusalem on the jukebox, little angels, beat your wings



The bride checks her hair and her make-up,and here comes the groom

What one-eyed monster comes slouching into your front room

Rudolph Valentino or the curse of the two-legged things

Jerusalem on the jukebox, little angels, beat your wings