There is no more I, the singer of songs, can do when I am crushed mercilessly beneath the imperial fist that is Mr. Man. It is so much for me to say that only the curative and restorative powers of Dos Perros, the sweet nectar of our gods, can save me. The harsh winds of fate blast through my soul like the cold gusts that do blow across the highest peaks of the Andes, and it is only through the delicate infusion of the most sweet libation that I may hope to survive. Please, o beneficent one, make with me the marriage that is Dos Perros and my soul so that I may be healed fully and one with the angels that sing their tiny, little songs...and damn you, vile Snoopy, for causing me such pain. While I cannot but help myself to start the little fights, it pains me to know that you are all too good at finishing them.