I hear your artificial laugh track, comedy in riddle,
Making light of a grave situation.
Sitcom let me go, I'd rather hear the radio
And listen to my favorite station.

And all around the world,
Satellite beaming bright out into the starry night,

But you're sending nothing good enough to view,
And you're saying nothing worth listening to.
You're doing nothing except for what profits you,
Doing nothing at all.

You got your big stars, and your little stars,
And your I wanna be a film star,
Glamorizing your sweet intentions.
No morality, you got your own philosophy,
But it's just a greedy invention.

And all around the world,
Satellite beaming bright out into the starry night,

But you're sending nothing good enough to view,
And you're saying nothing worth listening to.
You're doing nothing except for what profits you,
Doing nothing at all.

You got a panoramic view of the ocean from your villa,
Living high off your latest production.
Meanwhile little good
Seems to come from Hollywood
Where they shoot another seduction.

And all around the world,
Satellite beaming bright out into the starry night,

But you're sending nothing good enough to view,
And you're saying nothing worth listening to.
You're doing nothing except for what profits you,
Doing nothing at all.

Lyrics Copyright 1993 Phil Keaggy