Cosmic Annie—Stars Are Hot

Cosmic Annie, stars are hot, and it goes without saying, because space is so quiet, that you are a star. When you walk in a room When you shine down the street, The boys and the girls sweat bullets and beads, and they'd crash like atomic sounding rain, but their collective sigh sucks the air like a vacuum from all space and vicinity, but most swear they remember sizzling steam. When you go to the beach, the people cry like they've seen Mary, the virgin, sweet, they hold themselves in tight embrace like they've beheld Cleopatra and squeeze like snakes coiled tight, and the waves hold their crashes out of admiration and respect. Cosmic Annie, the star, hot, hot, supernova boiling pot the stuff galaxies are made of.