Living in the Great State of New Jersey
suburban central, south farms, northern streets
eighteen exits on the blacktopped Turnpike
and the Devils, a hockey team tough to beat.

All along the Parkway odyssey
the drivers heading to the sea
they roll along, so glad of Corzine's deal.
Knowing they voted for Gore
and Kerry in 2004
and a big relieving sigh is all they feel.

Good morning, America, how are ya?
Say, don't ya know me? I'm your smarter son.
I'm the place they call the Great State of New Jersey.
And you'll wish you'd voted with me when this song is done.

Dealing card games in the Boardwalk's big casinos
spending a bundle, pit boss keeping score.
Win stuffed bears by knocking over bottles
and feel the breeze drifting off the shore.

And the sons of politicians
and the sons of old-time cops
drive down Route 1 to their Outback Steakhouse meal.
Mothers with their babes asleep
glad husband's not right-wing creep
and the thought Bush soon is gone, so good they feel.

Good day, America, how are ya?
Say, don't ya know me? I'm your smarter son.
I'm the place they call the Great State of New Jersey.
And you'll wish you'd voted with me when this song is done.

Nighttime in the Great State of New Jersey
parking cars in lot, Route 23.
Shopping mall, feels like home for many
though the workers board the buses back to Newark poverty.

And all the towns and people seem
aware there's still a bad dream
and the "President" still ain't heard the news:
Our State's got higher minimum wage
than D.C. allows, that's why we rage.
This State's got the right to be proud that we vote Blue!

Good night, America, how are ya?
Say, don't ya know me? I'm your smarter son.
I'm the place they call the Great State of New Jersey.
And you'll wish you'd voted with me when this song is done.