The desert's so dry

There's water over the dune but the clowns don't know it, they've never looked that far

They hold a market and hawk their wares

Each trying to convince that theirs are best

So that they can earn more sand

To keep in a treasure chest in their homes which are just square plots drawn out in the wasteland

But no-one's selling water

And water will not be sold

Those laughless clowns struggling to earn the sand under their feet

And so they die of thirst there

Looking down to find the sun.