Book of Flags Q and Not U

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