Potato Hate Explosion - Flying Son of a Nailgun

Electric coursing up my legs

Tonight the natives are restless
And huts are glowing like lanterns
There's a feeling sweeping through the homeland
Blessed be the potato enchanter
Storm the gates, it's a shindig on stilts
The juice of your veins is my warpaint of choice
The party plant can never wilt

Watch the circle of jewels fluxuate
And blossom into a full spectrum
Cut the string

I'll party with Jesus and Satan
In the middle of Buddha's basement
As soon as the check bounces I'll be up and on my way
Electric coursing up my legs
Putting my face to the floor in Tuscany
The way you're raised doesn't always stick around to stay
The way you're raised doesn't always stick around to stay
Putting my face to the floor in Tuscany
Putting my face to the floor in Tuscany

I've got the heart of a sailor
And the mouth of a fucking sailor

Watch the circle of jewels fluxuate
And blossom into a full spectrum