Where Flowers Are To Be Eaten

No country is to be hated, people are the ones who scar her beautiful face and make us hate each other, if we live in a rotten world, our kids don't have to

It’s where the black sweat of the earth

Is thought to be blood

And that liquid through our veins

Is thought to be mud

Blood banks will never supply us

In spite of the flood

Yet, here we are wasting our bullets

In vampire season

Here in my country

Where flowers

Are to be eaten

 

 

It’s where the line between the sexes

Is colored in pink

Because of law washing religion

In a feminine ink

Along with dishes men are rinsing

Their pride in the sink

Amazon is not a myth

And you know the reason

It’s in my country

Where flowers

Are to be eaten

 

 

It’s where a pillow is nothing more

Than a colorless wall

So when you sleep your dreams will take

An actual fall

Don’t be surprised when that occurs

It’s destined to all

When your deserves and what you hope

Are not even even

You’re in my country

Where flowers

Are to be eaten

 

 

It’s where happened more than three strikes

But no one was out

Because of claiming for the right

And having a doubt

Stopping what’s already stopped

Is what the story about

And so, the wheelchair is stuck

For this paralyzed region

Which is my country

Where flowers

Are to be eaten

 

 

It’s where death is the only drug

That is still safe from expense

Compared to life with all its madness

It will always make sense

So when you find only one spot

Where they have lowered the fence

Will you escape to where you know

That life will not sweeten ?

Out of my country

Where flowers

Are to be eaten

 

 

It’s where a dream can only be

Immaculately conceived

Over here it was neglected

Overseas is believed

And after all, the dream of dreaming

Is what have been achieved

To redefine sleep is an act

Of national treason

Here in my country

Where flowers

Are to be eaten

 

 

It’s where a million dead have built

All our leaders and thrones

And where we’re still trying to fly

Using featherless bones

Cash can never be extracted

From our history loans

So, grave digging is still alive

Because our memory won’t weaken

Here in my country

Where flowers

Are to be eaten

 

 

A pretty seed can only grow

To a devilish plant

We know the way to raise a rose

But this gardener can’t

We stay aside without a job

Yet we suffer and pant

And when the harvest time will come

We’ll be brutally beaten

Because those flowers will eventually

Need to be eaten