:sing:
"Our country reeks of trees, our yaks are really large, and they smell like rotting beef carcasses. And we have to clean up after them, and our saddle sores are the best. We proudly wear women's clothing and searing sand blows up our skirts. And the buzzards they soar overhead, and poisonous snakes will devour us whole, and our bones will bleach in the sun..." :sing:
Quit work and come back full-time
~HB