Apple Tree

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 He spoke to them as if they were his sons And boy, were they pretty He couldn't be pretty If he was found out, they'd be cut down Cut down in the fields as he fought in the streets And laid in the ground, below the poppies If you had all that you wanted If it ever could be so easy If you were to die tomorrow Would you still plant your apple tree? The wound of a war You never fought Or even asked for An extension of yourself An extension of yourself An extension of yourself An extension of yourself