Stress!Stress! I cant go on
trapped in this blasted heat
like water in a kettle I'm
boiling, melting into my seat
but unlike boiling water
I will not turn to steam
which would float out of the window
into the dead sun's gleam
I'd float up o'er the mountains
into the blinding rain
wash away my discontent
untill i'm whole again
but what if i got lost
and fell in to factory dust
i'd cough up all my goodness
leaving only greed and lust
so i will just stay here
halfway 'tween hevan and hell
I'll dream about the mountains
and the rain's pure, earthy smell