I was born underwater, I dried out in the sun I started humpin' volcanoes, baby, when I was too young Started surfing the mad house, and I decided to stay I got an itch in my cosmic pocket, and it won't go away
Instead of draggin' the swamp for your lost love Come to me, I'm your living crop circle
Like a lamb to the slaughter, like a peach in the sun Curl up in my flame pit, baby, until you're way over done I came up from the ground, I came down from the sky And I rounded her knees like a worm with a mission 'Cause I'm made out of salt, and I'm made out of coal And I live like a king, In a showmercial
Instead of letting the man make you a monkey
Fry your head in the living crop circle-yeah!
Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, I'm your living crop circle
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