Lyrics:

I've got a job, I explore
I follow every little whiff
And I want my life to smell like this
To find a place, an ancient race
The kind you'd like to gamble with
Where they'd stamp on burning bags of shit

Looking for a place to happen
Making stops along the way

Wayward ho! Away we go
It's a shame to leave this masterpiece
With its gallery gods and its garbage-bag trees
So I'll paint a scene, from memory
So I'd know who murdered me
It's a vain pursuit, but it helps me to sleep


Jacques Cartier, right this way
I'll put your coat up on the bed
Hey man you've got a real bum's eye for clothes
And come on in, sit right down
No you're not the first to show
We've all been here since, God, who knows?