The brutal sun beats down upon my head.
The work is hard and hardly worth the pay.
Oh how I wish I could be in your bed,
and face this burning sun another day.
This never-ending battle I can't win.
The sun attacks relentless from above.
I'd rather feel the heat of your sweet skin,
and toil for the pleasures of your love.
But here I am still working while I dream;
the dream is all I have to get me through.
And though I am so weary I could scream,
I'll do it all tomorrow just for you.
Though I am chained to labours I abhor,
this cruel fate just makes me love you more.
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