And one is that sweat doesn't come easy,
It comes with private, intense desire,
Which only likes sticking around for so long,
But really it's just yourself in a different form.
It's been born in heat,
Which in reality is something you should crave,
Something you should be jealous of even,
Because cold equalizes everything and we are tired
Of being equalized and being drawn on consistently
The same scale, the same volume of voice
For every new and sad story.
If only we had the means to turn up the volume
On the night, on its orchestras and brass,
Opera from the street lamps,
Symphonies in the grass.
You wouldn't hear a single word I have to say,
And I think everyone would agree
That on this night swimming in sweat,
That would be completely okay.
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