We grow in soil, we live on plain.

We’re split in two, together we bear.

We tumble around, we stick together.

From our bellies, into theirs.

We are cut, we are slain.

We process, we are processed.

We fall, we are brought down.

We die short, we live tall.

We live in our children, we live in them.

Some for food, some for field.

We fall from stalk, we scatter on ground.

They give us food, we give them theirs.

We are cooked, we are raw.

We’re happy to grow, we’re happy to feed.

Holy life, holy death.

There is heartache, there is joy.

We scatter, we are scattered.

They eat us, they breed us.