Blow the wind through my window.
The atmosphere is hot.
I can hear my roof pop, now you can imagine how hot it is.
I'm roasting like burning steak meat.
Feeling like a puppy without fur as my skin feels the heat.
Dripping buckets of sweat,
I know one won't dare to drink.
I look like a mate no one will come near.
Not because of my aggressive nature,
But it's because of my sweaty, sticky state.
Oh how I wish to be home,
Or in front of an air conditioner that is cool.


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