Satellite - Robyn Hitchcock

Every day the satellite

Seems to be the door of someone’s reach

Every day the satellite

Seems a little further on the beach

Satellites and stags

I’m growing Betsy in a bag

And she don’t mind

As long as things are round

Every day the satellite

Jerky little canister of gold

Who’s to be the satellite

With inches of whole Betsy growing cold

I’m into you so far

I’m out the other side

And orbiting is just a waste of time

Next time I get into you

I swear to God I won’t come out again

Swear to God I won’t come out again

Satellites and stags

I’m growing Betsy in a bag

And she don’t mind

As long as things are round

Every day the satellite

Seems a little further out of reach