I bought six sunflowers at Sundays farmers market The one near Selma and Vine I took them all home put them into a big green vase And they were pretty I was proud they were mine They brought fire into my house for six or so days Soon they were droopy I thought Hmm, time pays But one just kept on burning Like she was looking me in the eye Saying f**k you bitch Am gonna live without the soil, the sun, the sky Even tho I have no roots and I'm dismembered and on display I will burn You'll drink my like blood til consumption is pass¨¦ I will burn for all my sisters and for my brothers too And all the flowers long forgotten Yeah I will burn for you I just looked into her face Seeing her triumph her struggle and our race And I saw my comfort then and the numbness and self pity it brings Like that's some kind of excuse like I can cut myself off another self Indulgent illusion to hide my violence to hide our violence Well we all cut this flower down Be she in yourself in a field in a sweatshop or in a small zapatista town Yeah we all When will war be over When will war be over When will war be another clich¨¦ Just like peace is packaged today oh when will war be over