It flies high, way up in the air
Held by the strings that show our care
The secret therein is signified
Even the past promises are now dignified
The rose encircled is the emblem
But it's poor love - victory with no fame!

Battered by the winds but never shaken
Stretched to its limit but not broken
A worthwhile fight, yet only for symbolism
Though that figure I know shares our optimism
So fly on higher flag and show -
that love will be lost no more!