Where are the flowers that we put into the muzzles of the guns?
Dried up and pressed inside a frame, they never get a second glance.
The love that we would banish war with, on bombed out streets now naked stands.
Where are the flowers that we put into the muzzles of the guns?
Where is the innocence of youth, the stars that once were in our eyes
When did we learn to cover truth with our excuses and our lies?
When did our ideals falter? Tell me, when did we change our plans?
Where are the flowers that we put into the muzzles of the guns?
Our lives from others we have learned to separate
From evil we avert our eyes.
More often war it is, and not love that we make
And all the time we compromise.
We used to turn the other cheek, but now we turn our face away.
We were the blessed and the meek; our future brighter than the day.
But we've forgotten Luther's message; we never ask ourselves, not once:
Where are the flowers that we put into the muzzles of the guns?
But we've arrived, and as we pat each other's backs
Our principles we now betray
And year on year as we progress and we advance,
It's not just hair that's turning grey...
Where are the flowers that we put into the muzzles of the guns?
Where are the lessons we would pass on to our daughters and our sons?
And did we ever make a difference? and did we ever stand a chance?
Where are the flowers that we put into the muzzles of the guns?
Dried up and pressed inside a frame, they never get a second glance.
The love that we would banish war with, on bombed out streets now naked stands.
Where are the flowers that we put into the muzzles of the guns?
Where is the innocence of youth, the stars that once were in our eyes
When did we learn to cover truth with our excuses and our lies?
When did our ideals falter? Tell me, when did we change our plans?
Where are the flowers that we put into the muzzles of the guns?
Our lives from others we have learned to separate
From evil we avert our eyes.
More often war it is, and not love that we make
And all the time we compromise.
We used to turn the other cheek, but now we turn our face away.
We were the blessed and the meek; our future brighter than the day.
But we've forgotten Luther's message; we never ask ourselves, not once:
Where are the flowers that we put into the muzzles of the guns?
But we've arrived, and as we pat each other's backs
Our principles we now betray
And year on year as we progress and we advance,
It's not just hair that's turning grey...
Where are the flowers that we put into the muzzles of the guns?
Where are the lessons we would pass on to our daughters and our sons?
And did we ever make a difference? and did we ever stand a chance?
Where are the flowers that we put into the muzzles of the guns?
Contributed by Bernart Bartleby - 2014/5/22 - 09:36
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Parole e musica di George Papavgeris.
Nel suo disco intitolato “Silent Majority”.