I know a thing or two about volcanoes. Broski ain't in my neck of the woods, but hell: he's old, he can go where he please. Everywhere except Albuquerque. They don't take kindly to his kind round there.
Please give me a home where cloud buffalo roam
Where the dear and the strangers can play
Where sometimes is heard a discouraging word
But the skies are not stormy all day
