They say every man spends his life runnin' from somethin'. Some run from the law. Some run from their past. Brandon Towne... He runs from potatoes. He was born with a fire And a line in the sand Never trusted a tater Never wanted 'em in his hand Didn't matter if you baked 'em Didn't matter if you fried If a spud showed up at supper Brandon pushed that plate aside He said, "Keep your mashed potatoes Keep your french fries too There's a whole lotta things I'll eat But that ain't one I'll do" For years he held the line Never backin' down But you can't outrun your destiny... When your last name's Towne. WELCOME TO POTATO TOWNE Where the spuds come up And the hammer comes down You can run all your life You can stand your ground But the taters finally caught you... BRANDON TOWNE! BRANDON TOWNE! Yeah, the taters finally caught you... BRANDON TOWNE! Well his birthday came around And his friends made a plan "Bring a dish for Brandon!" Well, that's where the trouble began There were taters in the kitchen There were taters by the door and every friend that walked in brought a few more There were crispy ones and cheesy ones And casseroles abound It was the biggest damn collection Of potatoes in the Towne He looked for an escape route But there wasn't one around The day of reckoning had come... For Brandon Towne. WELCOME TO POTATO TOWNE Where the spuds come up And the hammer comes down Everywhere you look There's a tater around Yeah, the harvest finally found you... BRANDON TOWNE! BRANDON TOWNE! Ain't no use in runnin' now... THEY GOT YOU SURROUNDED! Then somebody walked up With an old burlap sack Set it down in front of Brandon Said, "You've got one more to unwrap" Now he'd seen a sack like that before And he knew what might be found But this one felt too heavy... And it started makin' sound Brandon looked at the sack. The sack looked back at Brandon. Well... Not really. It's a sack. Open it. He reached down in that burlap And pulled out his surprise A big ol' spud-covered boombox Built to play the lows and highs Twenty-four volts of vengeance Big speakers made to pound If you thought you hated spuds before... WAIT 'TIL YOU HEAR 'EM NOW! WELCOME TO POTATO TOWNE! TURN THAT TATER UP LET IT SHAKE THE GROUND! YOU CAN PUSH 'EM OFF YOUR PLATE BUT YOU CAN'T TURN THIS ONE DOWN! THE LOUDEST DAMN POTATO... IN BRANDON TOWNE! TURN IT UP! It's covered in potatoes! TURN IT UP! He don't even like potatoes! WE KNOW! Then why'd we do it? 'CAUSE IT'S FUNNY! Baked! NO! Mashed! NO! French fried! HELL NO! Potato speaker? ...ALL RIGHT, THAT'S PRETTY COOL. WELCOME TO POTATO TOWNE! Raise 'em up high Let the whole world know There's one man alive Who still hates that spud But his friends made damn sure... HE'S GOT ONE AT HOME! BRANDON TOWNE! Happy birthday! BRANDON TOWNE! Turn that tater up! BRANDON TOWNE! And somebody get this man... ...literally anything else to eat.
