© 2002, W. Scott Messer
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They got a thousand channels on TV; it’s a terrible necessity
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But there isn’t anything to see, anywhere you turn
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They’ve got the cellular telephone so you can call them when they’re not at home
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Still, they want to be left alone. They’ve got money to burn
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Over in America Over in America
Everybody wants to be a star, and everybody drives a car
They never go too far; but they always go so fast
They try to load their bases; they know exactly what their place is
‘Cause they always win their races: well, they never come in last
Over in America Over in America
All the monsters here are tame; they put their saints in cages
They’ve got themselves to blame. It’s a bit outrageous
Everybody plays the game; the competition is contagious
And they go up in a flame – or they disappear in stages
Over in America Over in
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America, America, God shed His grace on thee
You’ve got to be on your guard, but when things start to get too hard
You just put it on your credit card; see the money flow
The manager’s trying to tame us, the tabloids want to blame us
It looks like we’re gonna be famous: did you hear us on the radio
Over in America Over in America
All their wise men are insane; the psychics are their sages
All their heroes are the same, and you can find them in the yellow pages
It might be a shame, but it’s been that way for ages
And they go up in a flame – or they disappear in stages
I’m gonna get a little bit of fame. It’s gonna be courageous
Everybody’s gonna know my name. Isn’t that outrageous
They all know why I came: the competition is contagious
And I’m gonna go up in a flame – or I’ll disappear on stages
Over in America Over in America
Or I’ll go up in a flame