(One, two, three, four)

Well I'm a sea-sick 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

I'm a straight-line walker with 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
It's nausea, oh nausea, and we're gone

(Let's go! Yeah! Hey! Woo-hoo! Say huh! Yahoo! Right on! Woooo! Come on!)

Now I'm a priest teenager on a tower of dust
I'm a dead generator in a cloud of exhaust
In a long-living desert with skulls for my pets
I rate the days, one to ten, with lead cigarettes

Oh, it's nausea, oh nausea, and we're gone
Nausea, oh nausea, and we're gone

Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Writer(s): BECK HANSEN