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