Baking Oven

My skin swelters It's getting hot Or is it just me They stare expectantly The microphone Is starting to burn my hands I'm sweating My dress is scorched My hair is sizzling I can't move I feel frozen But it's so hot My skin blisters And Bubbles Pops, flakes And floats away I'm having trouble breathing I look out at the crowd Through this Heat-Resistant glass Why won't they Turn this oven off The floors turn to wire Red hot with the heat Of a baking oven Set at 375 degrees The microphone melts I want to move My ankles are rooted in place A tear leaks from my eye Or did it? I hear a sizzle I smell burning I am on fire I hear a loud ding The oven door opens And I am rushed Off the stage Finally rushed out Of this sweltering oven