O I resent the heat of summer,
on still days silent the sun would sit.
As if the gates of hell are ajar,
where great mighty fires are lit.
Hard the earths surface shall bake,
with no boredom nor pause nor break.
Across the horizon the mighty sun shall set
and into oblivion its rays will sink,
......
O I resent the heat of summer,
on still days silent the sun would sit.
As if the gates of hell are ajar,
where great mighty fires are lit.
Hard the earths surface shall bake,
with no boredom nor pause nor break.
Across the horizon the mighty sun shall set
and into oblivion its rays will sink,
......