And then the Reaper comes.
He comes to cut them all.
One by One.

He takes the haulms.
He cuts them with his scythe.

He cuts them all.
One by One.

There’s a haulm, standing tall and strong,
Rich of corn and fruit.

But the Reaper cuts them all.
One by One.

There’s a haulm, old and weak.
His color is faded, his fruit is gone.

And the Reaper cuts them all.
One by One.

There’s a haulm, young and small.
Not knowing what happens,
Waving in the wind.

And the Reaper cuts them all.
One by One.

There’s a haulm, trying to escape his destiny,
Waving, turning in the wind, to cheat the Reaper.

But the Reaper cuts them all.
One by One.

There’s a haulm, standing in the sea of corn, 
Motionless, waiting for the End.

And the Reaper cuts them all.
One by One.

So the Reaper cuts the haulms.
And at dawn he plants the new seed,
Growing from the haulms he cut.

At sunset he will return,
To cut the haulms he has sown.

He cuts them all.
Since an eternity,
For an eternity.

One by One.