Satellites - Richard Shindell

Fire on the thoroughfare

No one’s going anywhere

They say these are but the vestiges

Their banners look like bandages

A martyr’s face, an acronym

Beat the drum and sing the hymn

Struggle red and bible black

The riot squad is holding back

The nation lost an industry

Someone closed a factory

The decision unilateral

The damage done, collateral

The president was in a pinch

Budget cuts or start to print

Basis points gone through the roof

Now what’s a head of state to do?

High above without a sound

The satellites keep going round

An astronaut, a cameraman

Is drifting out in no man’s land

He’s tethered to the studio

Atlanta we are good to go

The hungry eye has got the feed

Producer’s getting what he needs

The anchor asks:

Will government cave in to local discontent?

High above without a sound

The satellites keep going round

LCDs on trading floors

In living rooms, appliance stores

LCDs at S&P

Moody’s and Fidelity

Somewhere there’s an average Joe

Opening an envelop

Somewhere a retiree

Is staring at a balance sheet

High above without a sound

The satellites keep going round