Babies on beach blankets headed for Mars.
Cute guys in crew cuts in thier Day Glo surf boards.
There's a pretty lady in a bikini.
Her eyes are clear,
But her teeth look like smashed-out window panes.
She's trying to mend her dreams
With sushi and sea weed and carrot juice.

There's a wide wall that she can't see over now.
But that's ok, we're still learnin'
Mistakes are allowed
If you're a satellite, oh.

Yoga classes so you can look good in your singles' bar.
California's sure lovely.
It's the home of the stars.
And everybody is a nice body,
But their souls are like shaddows;
They are hollow inside.
They're choked and hiding behind
Powerbars, volleyball, vallium.

We understand a lot of things, oh, about modern technology,
But not about dreams, oh.
Our hearts are on the shelves.
We can't fix ourselves.
But we can fix a satellite.

In Hollywood, the heros are strung out on grace.
And half-skinned gypsies are crying, "Leave this place!"

We know how to fix a satellite. Babies on beach blankets headed for Mars.