Induce me in a coma in August

August rolls in with its heated glare,

Sunburnt dreams and suffocating air.

Everyone's lost, seeking shade and sleep,

In this blistering month that no one would keep.

Swatting at flies and cursing the sky,

Counting the reasons we’re all running dry.

I hear Green Day and scoff at the sound,

September’s got nothing on what August has found.

And I think, “Billie Joe, you had it all wrong,”

This is the month where we truly don’t belong.

Let’s skip the pretense, skip the fight,

Induce me in a coma, keep it light.

Induce me in a coma in August,

Let me bypass this sticky disgust.

Save me from this sun-scorched plight,

Wake me up when it’s cool at night.

Sweat-soaked shirts and melted dreams,

Everyone's shouting over old AC machines.

Summer break’s just another scam,

Sold in magazines with surf and glam.

August’s anthem is a blistered cry,

Stuck in traffic, under an unforgiving sky.

Forget your pumpkin spice serenade,

This month is a heatwave masquerade.

You think September brings relief,

But that's just the lie that cools your belief.

August laughs, a cruel disguise,

As we wait for clouds in empty skies.

Induce me in a coma in August,

Let me bypass this sticky disgust.

Save me from this sun-scorched plight,

Wake me up when it’s cool at night.

So as Billie waits for the month to end,

I’ll sit here and just pretend—

If August fades without a fuss,

We’ll all wake up, a little less combust.