Jerusalem Songtext
von Kieran Leonard
Jerusalem Songtext
Fifty thousand iron men
On the way home from Jerusalem
Romantics and taxpayers gather your strength
Your kingdom come, your will be done
And the country that you will defeat
Will be right beneath your feet
When the policemen take your children
And your women no longer weep
Who will save us from ourselves?
Who′s gonna save us from ourselves?
Celebrity soldiers, executive toys
Screaming street poets without any voice
Fatherless children, consumers and whores
Wristband charities without any cause
And you'll look for your God
And you′ll find the hanged man laughing
And you'll look for your love
And you'll find a new fragrance called passion
And you′ll try to find reason
Still obey your god and king fashion
And we′ll try and grow crops
But the land will yield us nothing
Who will save us from ourselves?
Who's gonna save me from myself?
Celebrity soldiers, executive toys
Screaming street poets without any voice
Fatherless children, consumers and whores
Wristband charities without any cause
Vincent′s and dissidents gather your strength
As you toil in the palace of decadence
And reap what you sow or condemn from the fence
There'll be nothing for sale and nothing to rent
Where nothing′s the currency, where nothing is left
The divide will grow wide, money won't buy you bread
There′s a man of the people saying, "Keep hope alive"
And a child on the street saying, "Bring out your dead"
Who will save us from ourselves?
Who's gonna save me from myself?
Celebrity soldiers, executive toys
Screaming street poets without any voice
Fatherless children, consumers and whores
Wristband charities without any cause
Buzzards and moguls toil for a handful of dust
And my TV won't stop selling me stuff
We′ve all bought lifestyles, but it isn′t enough
When a full tank of petrol means eight pints of blood
The shipyards are empty, you can't trade in rust
We sold all our souls to Facebook′s National Trust
When no one is looking they'll burn all the books
And trade in our passports for ropes and meat hooks
This isn′t a prophecy
This isn't how things were meant to be
This is England at two o′clock just yesterday
But there's fifty thousand iron men
On the way home from Jerusalem
Romantics and taxpayers gather your strength
Your kingdom come, your will be done
On the way home from Jerusalem
Romantics and taxpayers gather your strength
Your kingdom come, your will be done
And the country that you will defeat
Will be right beneath your feet
When the policemen take your children
And your women no longer weep
Who will save us from ourselves?
Who′s gonna save us from ourselves?
Celebrity soldiers, executive toys
Screaming street poets without any voice
Fatherless children, consumers and whores
Wristband charities without any cause
And you'll look for your God
And you′ll find the hanged man laughing
And you'll look for your love
And you'll find a new fragrance called passion
And you′ll try to find reason
Still obey your god and king fashion
And we′ll try and grow crops
But the land will yield us nothing
Who will save us from ourselves?
Who's gonna save me from myself?
Celebrity soldiers, executive toys
Screaming street poets without any voice
Fatherless children, consumers and whores
Wristband charities without any cause
Vincent′s and dissidents gather your strength
As you toil in the palace of decadence
And reap what you sow or condemn from the fence
There'll be nothing for sale and nothing to rent
Where nothing′s the currency, where nothing is left
The divide will grow wide, money won't buy you bread
There′s a man of the people saying, "Keep hope alive"
And a child on the street saying, "Bring out your dead"
Who will save us from ourselves?
Who's gonna save me from myself?
Celebrity soldiers, executive toys
Screaming street poets without any voice
Fatherless children, consumers and whores
Wristband charities without any cause
Buzzards and moguls toil for a handful of dust
And my TV won't stop selling me stuff
We′ve all bought lifestyles, but it isn′t enough
When a full tank of petrol means eight pints of blood
The shipyards are empty, you can't trade in rust
We sold all our souls to Facebook′s National Trust
When no one is looking they'll burn all the books
And trade in our passports for ropes and meat hooks
This isn′t a prophecy
This isn't how things were meant to be
This is England at two o′clock just yesterday
But there's fifty thousand iron men
On the way home from Jerusalem
Romantics and taxpayers gather your strength
Your kingdom come, your will be done
Writer(s): Kieran Pallett Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
