All that's artificial's stripped away
To leave but emptiness beneath.
I've seen all there is to see of you,
When you revealed it on the surface.
I've done all I came here for:
When I took it from your soil.
Yours is not the only clime,
In which these crops can grow.
You are but part of nature,
Something you cannot own.
Whatever lives within you,
Will be found elsewhere too.
I'll never see your fields again,
But these seeds are all I need.
You are your own no more,
For yourself you have outgrown.
Someday the tables will turn,
When you'll be the refugee.
It'll be my turn to cast you out,
And send you back to famine.

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