Flapping limply on broken string, Its power gone, merely a thing. Symbol of country, of honor and glory, Marched into battle, tells many a story.
But what if the barriers dividing our lands No longer were needed, instead, linking hands, We’d lower the poles flying separatist flags, Stop fighting each other, they’d soon become rags, No more to wrap soldiers who’ve died, leaving grief, Be they red, white and blue, or bright maple leaf.
For so long as we raise them, insist on their worth, We’ll always have conflict and no peace on this earth. Be the icon a star or a sickle or stripe, A flag is divisive encouraging strife.