Demanded by tyrants, Granted freely by streams, Let us honor the fallen, Who live on in our dreams

Its bells don't ring; they shine red, green, and yellow Tiny black seeds that season your meal, Or thin, red, or green when you need some heat

I am worn in red where a bride should wear white. I bloom for the living, yet cling to the dead. In the Lowlands Away, I rest on her breast the only color left when the song tells her fate. Love placed me there; loss made me stay. What am I?

You thought it was songs, But the app said no? 'Radio Art' ? It's what helps the heat flow...

They used to think I'm underground, In company of all the dead. Yet now all know I can be found Lightyears away above your head. And if you want me in your house? Just go put on some Mickey Mouse!