Stay out of the Kitchen

I feel it creepin’ as it moistens my skin.

Back when Winter blew it contined to be thin.

But now so thick I could punch through this plaster.

As the days grow longer it only gets faster.

Like beads of dew off my hair when i rise in the morning.

The man on T.V. gave me an impartial warning.

The moon chills while his brother blazes.

We can’t help but go through these phases.

It’s just something that can’t be beat.

I’m dying here, alone in the heat.