William Blake - Kevin Max

I see angels hanging from the trees

I hear psalms of kings through poetry

I make moments out of everything

it feels so warm when I am dreaming

where England’s gates are always swinging

through fountains joy is ringing

hillside towns and empty dales

are whispering the winsome tales of William Blake

True love is an art form

temptation is its partner

when I swing you round the chandeliers

we laugh at all life’s problems

Where church bells ring out loudly

and people smile so proudly

for nature and its romance

or supernatural circumstance and William Blake

William Blake sitting in the garden

William Blake no familiar jargon

Willam Blake dreaming in the theatre

William Blake don’t forget the paint dear

The monarchy is getting old

and bonfires of books are burning coal

imagination’s faltering

at night we here the soldiers marching

well England’s pubs are thinning out

and station guards are staring down

from chimney tops and cold gray towers

war has come and we need William Blake

William Blake sitting in the garden

William Blake no familiar jargon

William Blake laughing at the unknown

William Blake recites another poem

William Blake dreaming in the theatre

William Blake don’t forget the paint dear

William Blake sitting in the garden

William Blake no familiar jargon