"Mona Mur - The Man On The Satellite"

Men made God, to rule the world and all its creatures/ Under their mighty glance He blew nature and replaced it with Art Déco and Laissez-Faire les hommes/ He invented a lot of things/ For instance: women/ For His daily rib-eye steak/ Bien cuit/ Then God sussed out, that He was a man himself/ Now in seedy dressing-rooms/ He's every rotten body's darling/ On behalf of the Financial Times/ O smiling damned villain/ O smiling damned villain/ Oh! In your bed/ He's practicing the salvation of America/ He's practicing the salvation of America/ And afterwards He's washing his hands in nonsense/

Oh! He's not man enough to take me/
Oh! He's not wild enough to love me as I need it/
Oh! He's not dead enough to please me like an Egypt/
He's the man on the satellite/
Far from earth and untouchable, God knows/
He's the man on the satellite/
Shoot him down, if you can, baby
Shoot him down, if you can, slit
Shoot him down, that challenger

Centurywise/ These gentle giants/ Use young lovely history as their girl next door/ Servants of art/ Science redwhiteblackchinese blooddeathsexrocks rockets bulls balls van Gogh landscapes/
Peu à peu they run out of colours/
Peu à peu they run out of colours/

Oh! He's not mad enough to paint my hall of hatred/
Oh! He's not God enough to teach me/ As the jews teach their sons-in-law/ Oh! He's gone to the Home of the Brave/
Oh Lord - have mercy/ Never make him my slave/
Let him live on his satellite/
Won't you do him any harm tonight/ Bless you/ Won't you go on sacrificing all the charms of yours/ Oh Lord/
I don't believe in you anymore/
Let me live on my satellite/ I'll shoot you everywhere I can/ Baby/ Everywhere I can

Amen.