I have been torn away from my land of FREEDOM and forced to travel with my meager supply of twelve guns. My rations of quarter pounders are running low, and I've been forced to eat one of my bald eagles for sustenance. The only thing keeping me going is humming the 'Star-Spangled Banner' while I cry into my Stars and Stripes pillow. I plead with you, people of whiskey and 'taters, to give refuge to a poor spirit on her last straw of luck.