Do not go, lentil, into that good pie
Lest it should burn not bake upon the tray,
Rage, rage against the oven turned too high.

Soybeans and chickpeas may also die
For the pulses quicken upon their way,
Do not go, lentil, into that good pie.

The pastry turns crisp and black as the night
And the scarred legumes turn to darkened grey,
Rage, rage against the oven turned too high.

And so we, like pies, when the end draws nigh,
Have charcoaled remains grieved, too, in a way,
Do not go, lentil, into that good pie.

No, do not go, lentil, into that good pie.
Rage, rage against the oven turned too high.