Lyrics of Classic arts showcase

White glow of the tv set
Lights dancing on the screen
Voice-overs rise like minarets
Then fall diatonically
Should i answer a friend's distress call
Or should i go to sleep?
Would i, like the voices rise and fall,
What's it to me?

All those hours of wasted time
Have never crossed my mind

Here i am comfortable
In arm's reach of the black remote
Here i am comfortable
Surrounded by strings and bows
Let everyone else go

Nights on kirkwood so serene
Far from the sirens and the screams
I could write or i could read
Go next door and smoke some weed
As long as i don't have to think
About who the hell's running this mess
Or what shit they're writing up in the stone or nme
Go out and make a last call
Or sit here and do nothing at all
What's it to me?

All those hours of wasted time
Have never crossed my mind

Here i am comfortable
In arm's reach of the black remote
Here i am comfortable
All those clowns, what can they know?
Let everyone else go