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