Father, Son and Holy Ghost!
Meat on the sidewalk becomes a roast.
Summer’s a climatic whipping post,
The time of year I hate the most.
The dogs are panting, I am sweating,
I’ll never make the bus, I’m betting.
Miserable and mean I’m getting;
Summer is the year’s worst setting.
“F@#k you, seat’s mine!” the people say
Riding on the bus today.
The weather makes them talk that way.
July: politeness doesn’t pay.
Tell me, is it from May 21st
When none of us repented first?
‘Cause Satan couldn’t cast a curse
Which could be a fraction worse
Than this disgusting heat.