On my mind is tomorrow’s sun,
with it’s rays penetrating deep,
through a cloudless blue sky;
roasting and baking all and sundry
and swearing to become hotter,
than today’s sun.
Let, I pray,
that tomorrow’s sun
will not be more boilingly hot
than today’s sun;
because if it will,
farmers will have to feed
crushed ice to the chickens
so that they do not lay
hard-boiled eggs,
or omelettes.
Let, I pray,
that the heat of tomorrow’s sun
will not be more sweltering
than the heat of today’s sun;
because if it will,
cows will produce
evaporated, powdered milk;
hot water will come out of both taps;
potatoes will roast underground,
and all one will have to do to have lunch
is to pull one potato out
and add salt and pepper.
Let, I pray,
that tomorrow’s sun
will not be more scorching
than today’s sun;
because if it will,
mankind will sweat
like a politician on election day,
in spots that mankind didn’t know even existed;
and eating hot chilies will still be good
to cool off the mouth and throat.
Let, I pray,
that tomorrow’s sun
will be more soothing
than today’s sun;
that tomorrow’s sun
will understand better than today’s sun,
that there can be no contest,
between it and mankind;
that tomorrow’s sun
will know and appreciate
better than today’s sun,
that it is the hottest thing known
and therefore stop the terror;
stop the “come baby, come” beckoning;
that tomorrow’s sun
will acknowledge better than today’s sun,
that there is no need to show off
because nothing in the world
has the intention to test its resolve;
nothing in the world
has the intention to challenge it.
