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When mankind had finally leapt into space,
We found ourselves threatened by an alien race,
Armed to attack us for our sense of adventure.
“Be excellent to each other” - “Party on!”
Concepts which offend them -
For this they’d hunt us ‘til the last. So let’s down another glass,
Pack a bowl, grab your weapon of choice,
It’s time to defend the good times!

We’ve got the speed,
We’ve got the fury,
A venomous cure for our invader’s ill reason.
We’ve got the guts,
We’ve got the glory,
To forever recapture the freedom to party!

To defeat our ancient astronaut oppressors,
We sought out their weaknesses.
The solution was alcohol: chemical warfare;
A preemptive liquor strike.
Unleashing the THC gas attack,
Forged from space weed,
Fired from the hyper-chronic bongzooka
Lack of tolerance was their undoing!

We’ve got the speed,
We’ve got the fury,
A venomous cure for our invader’s ill reason.
We’ve got the guts,
We’ve got the glory,
To forever recapture the freedom to party!

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