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