She looked like she learned to dance from a

series of still pictures

She's madly excited now, she throws her hands

up like a tulip

She looks like an illustration of a cocktail party

Where cartoon bubbles burst in the air,

champagne rolls off her tongue

Like a second language

And it should have been her biggest night

The satellite looks down on her as she begins

to cry



All over the world at the very same time people

sharing the same sorrow

As the satellite looks down her darkest hour is

somebody's bright tomorrow



He pulled on a cigarette, in the crook of his

first finger

Felt the static electric charge of her perfect

hour-glass figure

As he undressed her with his eyes her weakness

was his talent

How could she know as she stepped through

the lights, that her dress would become

transparent

And with his face pressed to the screen, he

muttered words he'd never dare to say if she

could see him



All over the world at the very same time

People sharing the same cheap sensation the

thrill of watching somebody watching those

forbidden things we never mention



Chorus:



The satellite looks down right now and forever

What it has pulled apart let no man tether his

own body to his dream,

His dream to someone else

Oh no, oh no.



She went back to a pitiful compromise

He'd go back to his family

But for the matter of a thousand miles that

separated them entirely

In the hot unloving spotlight, with secrets

it arouses

Now they both know what it's like inside a

pornographer's trousers

And in a funny way it's anonymous, the satellite

it blesses us and makes these