My garments cling like traitors to my skin, my breath doth boil within this fiery air. What sin have I committed deep within, to roast beneath thy glare so foul, unfair?
My sweat doth pour like waterfalls divine, yet still thou smil’st, unbothered by my pain. I’d sell my soul for breeze or chill or sign that life exists beyond this heat-blazed plain. So fie on thee, O Summer, cruel and hot dear sir… I like thee not.
In other words: IT'S FUCKING HOT OUTSIDE!
