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