Becoming Myself Again (Post-Truth)

Taking pictures of her bloody nose, in the ladies room
Pulling her hair behind her ears, just to hide the proof, spray some perfume
You can walk outside one at a time, her after you
Just turn the light off and remove the residue
Dirty hands and dirty fingernails, in a college bar
Winstons and twenty-four ounce cans, of Labatt Blue, I think he’s had a few
Too many one night stands, to stand up and salute
It’s another moment in a night, under a moon
It is the only way to prove
You can live in post-truth
In this society
In th red, white, and the blu
It’s a mirror, the screen in front of you
If I am alive, it’s really only half of the time
The other half, I’m sucking air
If I leave, I would leave in an immaculate way
In a way that helps to understand
That I’m Becoming Myself Again
Telepathic guru of the streets, she’s a movie scene
Calculated markets dictating, who lives and sleeps, who fucking eats
Inside a penthouse, underground, and underneath
We’re swiping credit cards to satisfy your needs
It’s the only way to prove