Sangtekst: Ninety Pound Wuss. Where Meager Die Of Self Interest. One Track Mind.

Your substantial credibility
Isn't much a part of me
A spreading sickness, poor in taste
No sense of reality
Following the newest trend, it's cutting edge
So you pretend to believe ideals
And conform to rules of material opinions
We're all products of a manufactured generation
Controlled through television, by sex and violence
Resist
We accept the obscene as average
Twisting all that our instincts are fighting for
Resist it
Man exploiting women, flesh, sex, skin, flash
We rape, we destroy all that's holy
Resist them
Flesh market society we digress
We fight to survive while
Destroying each other with selfishness
Lies of liberty and freedom
Hopes in something called democracy
Masking the reality