If she should come and greet me again
With the pains of this world writ 'cross all her limbs
Like bewildered child I'd hold her in mine
And stroke her sweet head evermore
Bound unto wonder
We’d carelessly stray
Like low-rolling shadows through the end of our days
There's trumpets in heaven
Six feet underground
Mighty and muddy
They faintly resound
And love and love like proud flying doves
With hearts full of pebbles and feathers and mud
Though there's bedlam beneath us
And no sky above
Just a dark fucking hollow that smothers and gusts
The flag, the flag, thee olde dirty flag
We lay down like dry stalks 'neath that stick and that rag
Shine up them buttons,
Baby bury the band,
And the flag, the flag, and thee olde dirty flag

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