Heat of the Sun

In the midst of the sun,
There's not just a fool but someone
Who cannot read the time of day
And so in the heart of the heat they stay.

Breathing softly against the necks of the boat docks,
Wooly hearts all bundled up against the cold,
And frozen sand being pushed by cool waves,
But in the heart of the sun they stay.

Frost bite snug against every ounce of skin
On the maker of the telephone in another dimension,
Oh it hurt yet a numbness was to be found in that way,
And in the heart of the heat of day they stay.

The fringe on one's hair is pulled back far enough to see a weathered scar,
Clinging with static to a broken, wearied heart,
And in place the heart completely stayed,
In the heart of the heat of the sun on a cold summer's day.