Where is my June rain?
Feels like suffocation, and it's only going to get hotter.
I keep thinking of the Robert Frost poem, Fire and Ice:
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
Seems we've made our choice.