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