| Jerusalem on the Jukebox, they talk in tongues on Coronation Street
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| Heaven help the Pharisee whose halo has slipped down to his feet
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| A thousand satellite comedians have died for your sins
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| Jerusalem on the jukebox, little angels, beat your wings
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| At poolside picnics they chant for Ferraris and furs
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| Their muscle-tone sharpens but their hold on reality blurs
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| You can have your cake and eat it, and never have to puke up a thing
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| Jerusalem on the jukebox, little angels, beat your wings
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| In the bathroom mirror they try that Joan of Arc look again
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| Two parts Ingrid Bergman to one part Shirley MacLaine
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| The wounds of time kill you but the surgeon’s knife only stings
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| Jerusalem on the jukebox, little angels, beat your wings
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| In video-suburbia the blue light flickers and flames
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| Ecstasy and holy blackmail are the favorite games
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| And God has the sharpest suit and the cleanest chin
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| Jerusalem on the jukebox, little angels, beat your wings
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| The bride checks her hair and her make-up, and here comes the groom
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| What one-eyed monster comes slouching into your front room
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| Rudolph Valentino or the curse of the two-legged things
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| Jerusalem on the jukebox, little angels, beat your wings |