A Classic Arts Showcase lyrics

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 passed my mind.

Here I am comfortable
In arm`s reach of the black remote.
Here I am comfortable
Surrounded by stings 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 the Stone or NME
Go out and make last call
Or sit here and do nothing at all
What`s it to me?

All those hours of wasted time
Have never passed 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.
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