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