(Jimmy P. Brown II, George Ochoa)  What kind of society do we have  Where doing the wrong is right?  Living by rules pressured in  Throughout time  The lies are always being fed  While the world is going to hell  Do all you can to please one, please yourself  A product of society, feelings are not inbred  I'm made to feel no sympathy  I may as well be dead  I know my life means more than this  But selfishness has been my creed  Is there a way to feel again  To remove this rotted seed  I was born this way, can I change  Or will I remain a product of society  Lust and power, insidious greed  A make up of what I am  I owe society for who I am  A selfish child in the form of a man  Feelingless, I could care less  About what happens to you  Repent, recant, change my ways?  Contradiction from what I knew  Society's sick, the one were in  Where doing the wrong is right  Pollution of the mind, its now time  Rise up against the filth  That's being fed to you and me  Do all you can to please one, please yourself