Well we're looking at the cover,  We're spending all our time  Just staring at the magazine    Well, look who's on the cover,  wasting all our time...  some pseudo-fascist hero-machine    Well, that's no space for a human being  That man is not a hero or saint.  When somewhere in deepest America,  Grown men weep at the sound of his name  So it goes, and it goes...    All the girls named Gloria  Sing sweetly out of key.  The sun rose in the west today,  accidents in the land of the free...    Well I grew up where they showed you the body count  In color on your dinner TV  And I've been numbed so insensitive  That all I can think about is You and Me  You know, children from the best homes  They all have guns n' butter  They have their share of murder blue  Well it's not such a wiggy-awesome good time  When the shopping-mall militia point their cannons at you..  So it goes..    All the girls named Gloria  Sing sweetly out of key  The sun rose in the west today  Accidents in the land of the free  I love this world harder in my imagination  Than my conscience should allow  But accidents do happen, accidents will happen  Don't you dare to ask me how.    All the girls named Gloria  Sing sweetly out of key  The sun rose in the west today  Accidents in the land of the free  I love this world harder in my imagination  Than my conscience should allow  But accidents do happen, accidents will happen  Don't you dare to ask me how