If the following sounds like music at all,
it probably means you've climbed one too many mountains.

Raindrops on cactus and really wet monsoons,
Writing bad lyrics for well-beloved show tunes,
Putting my foot in my mouth without getting hurt,
This is a hymn to my favorite shirt.

Blank MEMO pages on which I can doodle,
Now you've received the whole kit and kaboodle,
Demanding your dollars without sounding curt,
This is a hymn to my favorite shirt.

When the ons run, when the frags ment,
When I'm feeling sad,
I simply remember my favorite shirt,
And then I don't feel so bad.

Folks in their t-shirts with bright little faces,
Writing no wrongs in all the right places,
"It's simply our mission," you'll hear us assert,
This is a hymn to my favorite shirt.

Blank MEMO pages on which I can doodle,
Now you've received the whole kit and kaboodle,
Demanding your dollars without sounding curt,
This is a hymn to my favorite shirt.

When the ons run, when the frags ment,
When I'm feeling sad,
I simply remember my favorite shirt
And then I don't feel so bad.