I bought six sunflowers at Sundays farmers market

The one near Selma and Vine

I took them all home put them into a big green vase

And they were pretty

I was proud they were mine



They brought fire into my house for six or so days

Soon they were droopy I thought

Hmm, time pays

But one just kept on burning

Like she was looking me in the eye

Saying fuck you bitch

Am gonna live without the soil, the sun, the sky



Even tho I have no roots and I'm dismembered and on display

I will burn

You'll drink my like blood til consumption is pass¨¦

I will burn for all my sisters and for my brothers too

And all the flowers long forgotten

Yeah I will burn for you



I just looked into her face

Seeing her triumph her struggle and our race

And I saw my comfort then and the numbness and self pity it brings



Like that's some kind of excuse like I can cut myself off another self

Indulgent illusion to hide my violence to hide our violence 

Well we all cut this flower down

Be she in yourself in a field in a sweatshop or in a small zapatista town

Yeah we all

When will war be over

When will war be over

When will war be another clich¨¦

Just like peace is packaged today oh when will war be over