THE FLAG
So you believe in revolution,
Take up the sword, cut to the chase,
Pick up the stone and with conviction,
Dash it in the master's face.
March on across the fallen foe,
His armour broken, red with rust,
His lance lies shattered, helmet riven,
His banner trodden in the dust.
The day is won the victory sealed,
The foe lies vanquished in the mud,
Your flag flies red above the field,
What matter if it's stained with blood.