That my fevered mind contains
Scorched days and sweaty nights
Where there was no relief in sight
The fans only move hot air around
So I search for a cool place be found
And then the Winter's solid cold winds
From places East where the arctic
Came down through Canada's wide plains
The other side of the Cascades
In blankets wrapped against the chill
I longed for Summer's dried out heat
Autumn and Spring are vague dreams
Neither cold or hot but pouring rains
I can't bring to mind a season that I liked
Which always sets up a mental plight
Without the seasons what would we have
Without the seasons it would be bland.
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