1, 2, 3, 4



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

Ringin' 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

It's nausea, oh nausea

And we're gone