When the flowers are strewn along the sidewalks
There is a ceremony
How about the family of the flower that was plucked
There isn't harmony
I overhead an old man say
sleep is the cousin of death
The man is on a bed today
Trying to keep his last breath
When a child is born someone dies
When a man finds love someone cries
For our plants to yield we kill the weeds
For our hearts to heal we kill memories
Everything in life has a partner
You can never run out of joy, nor disasters