The fertile soils know nothing of humanity
As it is tilled into dust
Masses of molecules, ambivalent
To all the partitions discussed

Oblivious to gods, watermelons grow
In amongst the shouts
The squawks of the barbarian
Echo along the valley of doubts

Bring another flood to wash clean
The fields of blood
Plant the watermelon seeds
In this god-forsaken mud

Never mind the river or the sea
There’s no mountain owned
All the king’s horses and men
Will see the kings dethroned