I'm a seasick sailor 
 On a ship of noise 
 I got my maps all backwards 
 And my instincts poisoned 
 In a [bad word] 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 [bad word] 
 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