Twenty-seven Centigrade,
better find a little shade
dying in the Sun,
turning slightly brown,
think
I'm too well done
that's alright
with me, it's
time for tea.
Eighty-two in Fahrenheit
head's getting to be so light
floating far away, it's
what a Summer day was sent
to me for.
If I close one eye and I pray,
I might conjure up another beautiful day.
Mercury,
I know that you dream of me,
the temperatures rising, it's
hardly surprising.
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 7:14 AM UTC
Twenty-seven Centigrade,
better find a little shade
dying in the Sun,
turning slightly brown,
think
I'm too well done
that's alright
with me, it's
time for tea.
Eighty-two in Fahrenheit
head's getting to be so light
floating far away, it's
what a Summer day was sent
to me for.
If I close one eye and I pray,
I might conjure up another beautiful day.
Mercury,
I know that you dream of me,
the temperatures rising, it's
hardly surprising.
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