Now I’m a seasick sailor on a ship of noise
I got my maps all backwards and my instincts poisoned
In a truth blown gutter full of wasted years
Like blown-out speakers ringing in my ears
Oh, it’s nausea, oh nausea
And we’re gone
It’s nausea, oh nausea
And we’re gone
Now I’m a straight-line walker in a black-out room
I push a shopping cart over in an Aztec ruin
With my minion fingers working for some god
Who could see his own reflection in a parking lot
Oh, it’s nausea, oh nausea
And we’re gone
No it’s nausea, oh nausea
And we’re gone
Now I’m a priest teenager on a tower of dust
I’m a dead generator in a cloud of exhaust
I eat alone in the desert with skulls for my pets
I rate the days one to ten with lead cigarettes
It’s nausea, oh nausea
And we’re gone
Nausea, oh nausea
And we’re gone
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