Jul 2015
The sun beats down,
And heats tempers
Glaring in eyes
Boiling blood
The breeze rustles trees
And teases our sweaty labours
Until we find refuge in the shade,
Then work again
And heats tempers
Glaring in eyes
Boiling blood
The breeze rustles trees
And teases our sweaty labours
Until we find refuge in the shade,
Then work again
