| An extension of yourself
|
| Boy hands out roses in the backyard
|
| His food in the fryer
|
| His house is on fire
|
| All his teeth grew the wrong way in
|
| Won’t smile, but he’s laughing
|
| Daffodils over guns
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| He spoke to them as if they were his sons
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| And boy, were they pretty
|
| He couldn’t be pretty
|
| If he was found out, they’d be cut down
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| Cut down in the fields as he fought in the streets
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| And laid in the ground, below the poppies
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| If you had all that you wanted
|
| If it ever could be so easy
|
| If you were to die tomorrow
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| Would you still plant your apple tree?
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| The wound of a war
|
| You never fought
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| Or even asked for
|
| An extension of yourself
|
| An extension of yourself
|
| An extension of yourself
|
| An extension of yourself |