I watched that flag blow in the wind,
Wrinkled like ripples in a pond
Like the people of its land, it had been through hell
And I just sat there watching it in the summer breeze
While some men fought for what it means
Halfway down its silver pole
There’s always a tragedy
Like the King of Nazareth, humiliated
Like a forgotten child, left out in the cold
All full of pain, no one takes him in when it rains