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