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Now I'm a seasick sailor on a ship of noise |
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I got my maps all backwards and my instincts poisoned |
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In a truth blown gutter full of wasted years |
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Like blown-out speakers ringin' in my ears |
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Oh, it's nausea, oh, nausea and we're gone |
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It's nausea, oh, nausea and we're gone |
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Now I'm a straight-line walker in a black-out room |
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I push a shopping cart over in an Aztec ruin |
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With my minion fingers working for some God |
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Who could see his own reflection in a parking lot |
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Oh, it's nausea, oh, nausea and we're gone |
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No, it's nausea, oh, nausea and we're gone |
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Now I'm a priest teenager on a tower of dust |
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I'm a dead generator in a cloud of exhaust |
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I eat alone in the desert with skulls for my pets |
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I rate the days, one to ten with lead cigarettes |
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It's nausea, oh, nausea and we're gone |
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Nausea, oh, nausea and we're gone |