Book Of Flags
an iron gate surrounds you stinking like rotting lace.
your flags are waving dishonestly.
a pining plaything, so false so pleased, your flags are aching to bloom from distand grouds, drowning out every sound.
ten generations, ten-thousand nations reditributed like a lost and found.
we're keeping our flags at home.
we're keeping our flags indoors.
we're pulling them from our clothes.
we're spending some time alone.
"you better not child."
your flag confessed it's first confession calling out all your guests, calling out all your children.
like it or not, "child."
i knocked your system up.
i drank your system down.
i'm showing symptoms.
i fucked your system.
look, now i'm pregnant with the whole damn town.
we wrapped your flag up (they never want to be alone)
we wrapped your flag up tight (they never want to be alone)
we tucked your flag in (there's trouble in the house tonight)
we kissed your flag goodnight.
i miss the precious sounds, the tender sounds, the softer sounds.
i miss the underground.