Flowers on my Gravestone
When you die, it is a tradition
To place flowers on your grave
To honor your death
But why?
Why is it
that your death
Is worth more than
A flower's life
We pick a flower
Killing it slowly
Letting it suffer
All to honor
The death of another
Is this right?
What makes us think
That a flower's life
Is worth less than us
Even in death
We never give thanks
To the poor dead flower
Who's beauty has given light
To a dark and dreary stone
When I die
I would like a grave next to me
For all the flowers
That have suffered and died
To make me more beautiful
Even in death
To place flowers on your grave
To honor your death
But why?
Why is it
that your death
Is worth more than
A flower's life
We pick a flower
Killing it slowly
Letting it suffer
All to honor
The death of another
Is this right?
What makes us think
That a flower's life
Is worth less than us
Even in death
We never give thanks
To the poor dead flower
Who's beauty has given light
To a dark and dreary stone
When I die
I would like a grave next to me
For all the flowers
That have suffered and died
To make me more beautiful
Even in death