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
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