Too hot to think
The words are a blur
The lines on the highway
Race by

AC crapped out
Radio did too
I can't get my thoughts
To run straight

Nothing makes sense
The signs all point
In the wrong direction
I'm running out of gas

Aha! What's that ahead?
A light
A very bright light
I'm so confused

It's not getting closer
It's moving away
Just like the memory
Of snow-capped hills

The memory of cool
Of cold and of frost
The chill of the past
Becomes the future

We are close, my friends
Closer than you know
To a summer long gone
And winters frigid blast

Oh complain we will do
Of heat and of cold
And in our bitter rants
Our words are a blur