I wave from my post, up so high
Watching birds and planes go flying by
Cloth all shiny and glistening new,
Hey I’ve got 3 colors, not just 2

When troops go marching by, I wave to them proudly
But when none return, I remember them sadly
When disaster strikes our country, I’m raised half way
To honor those who were ruthlessly slain

The Moon and Sun rise and fall; my colors fade and I begin to fray
I guess that’s the price that all flags pay.
People gather, and a flame is lit,
They bring me down and toss me into the fiery pit.

As my tattered cloth begins to sear
I shed 1 final fiery tear.