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    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

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    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

    Song details

    Composition: Robyn Hitchcock

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