It’s not love, it’s not sex
Stop playing make believe
Free your flesh, kill your soul
What you celebrate, you should grieve

Images flash across the screen
The things you saw can’t be unseen
You’re not the man you pretend to be
Post Modern Man
The only fight you fight is the stroke of a key
Your mouth stays shut when you see me
You know you’re not the man that you oughtta be
Post Modern Man

Flaccid man, of no use
Taking pride in your own destruction
Feed your sickness, believe the lies
A false god of your construction

It’s just rage, for its own sake
Polly just repeats what she’s told to say
You don’t know why you feel this way
You’ll just hate tomorrow what you love today