Lyrics: Juliana Hatfield. Metal Fume Fever.

I was passed out on the factory floor
I couldn't feel my legs, I couldn't swallow
I'm burning metal for motherfuckers
I'm making weapons for southern lovers

I got the fever, I got metal fume fever

You might as well do dope
You're gonna get sick of something nasty
Out in the modern world, doubled over
What kind of cancer did you ask for?

It came out of the plant and into the sky
Into your eyes, into your bones
Into your homes, into your skin
You can't wash it off your hands

I got the fever, I got metal fume fever