Flags by Richard does therapy.

They’re climbing lamp posts in the dead of night;
Wrapping poles in red, white and blue spite;
They tell you it’s for pride
The terrified just hide’
Must’ve hired a cherry picker or nicked a scaffold
While the real thieves count their billions all brass and bold.

Farage on the telly with his pint glass sneer;
Tice flogging simple answers to complicated fear;
Stop the boats they scream from their riverside estates
While offshore accounts grow fatter behind private gates
Remember 2008 when they brought us to our knees
We bailed the banks out, while they profited on misery

They want you looking down instead of looking up,
At the billionaires who never paid enough,
They want you blaming refugees crossing the sea,
Not the millionaires who pay less tax than you and me.

So take your flags down from the lamppost
Love this England that never was
Our glory, the curry house the NHS
Not this manufactured fuss

Take your flags down from the lamp post mate
Before diversity comes too late
You can’t wrap yourself in bunting and call it brave
When you’re dancing on the grave of everything that made us great

What made Britain brilliant? It was never being pure.
It was Doc Martin’s, Ska, Chicken Tikka, Nottin’ Hill for sure.
It was arguing and revelling in the beautiful debate,
Not flags on every corner, like we’re sealing up the gate

And seriously though – how'd they get them up there?
Window cleaners on speed dial or bouncing through the air?
Pogo sticks at midnight? Ladders nicked from B&Q?
While we're fighting over lamp posts, they're still robbing me and you

So take your flags down from the lamppost
Love this England that never was
Our glory, the curry house the NHS
Not this manufactured fuss

So take your flags down from the lamppost
Love this England that never was
Our glory, the curry house the NHS
Not this manufactured fuss

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