Sweet corn (Zea mays convar. saccharata var. rugosa; also called Indian corn, sugar corn, and pole corn) is a variety of maize with a high sugar content. Sweet corn is the result of a naturally occurring recessive mutation in the genes which control conversion of sugar to starch inside the endosperm of the corn kernel. Unlike field corn varieties, which are harvested when the kernels are dry and mature (dent stage), sweet corn is picked when immature (milk stage) and prepared and eaten as a vegetable, rather than a grain. Since the process of maturation involves converting sugar to starch, sweet corn stores poorly and must be eaten fresh, canned, or frozen, before the kernels become tough and starchy.
Sweet corn occurs as a spontaneous mutation in field corn and was grown by several Native American tribes. The Iroquois gave the first recorded sweet corn (called Papoon) to European settlers in 1779. It soon became a popular food in southern and central regions of the United States.
Open pollinated varieties of white sweet corn started to become widely available in the United States in the 19th century. Two of the most enduring varieties, still available today, are Country Gentleman (a Shoepeg corn with small, white kernels in irregular rows) and Stowell's Evergreen.
Every day it gets a little harder, can't seem to get away.
I remember there's a certain place, a place I wish I'd stay.
I feel so lost within - pressured, I'm headed for that day.
Just one thought in my head, really. Do I need this fame?
Every time, god damn, I look at my son (seed), I see something I can't be.
Beautiful and care free, that's how I used to be.
Like some god damn fucking freak, I'm so pressured, I'm so weak,
Something takes a hold of me, something I can't believe.
I lay in bed at night and wonder, should I go on this way?
It's the only thing I really got for now, and it's called fame.
Every time, god damn, I look at my son (seed), I see something I can't be.
Beautiful and care free, that's how I used to be.
Like some god damn fucking freak, I'm so pressured, I'm so worried,
something takes a hold of me, something I can't believe.
So I see this face so innocent and fine... and so fine.
So I see this face and I realize it's mine.
I feel the rattle...
So I see this face so innocent and fine... and so fine.
So I see this face and I realize it's mine.
I feel the rattle...
Every time, god damn, I look at my son (seed), I see something I can't be.
Beautiful and care free, that's how I used to be.
Like some god damn fucking freak, I'm so pressured, I'm so worried,
something takes a hold of me, something I can't believe.