Some Days I Drink My Coffee by the Grave of William Blake

Some days I drink my coffee by the grave of William Blake Some days – when the hour's past too late Lost in my thoughts – where do I belong? The London I knew is gone – long gone The sun hangs low, the church bells toll The clouds unfold with burning gold When truth breaks through these city walls Perfidious Albion must fall This greedy, unpleasant land wraps itself in a flag Pretending it's freedom – a dictatorship in drag The forever wars, tyrannical laws The coup d'état with probable cause All revealed to little more than polite applause The sun hangs low, thе church bells toll The clouds unfold with burning gold When truth brеaks through these city walls Perfidious Albion must fall The agents of malice – provocateurs in disguise Using slivers of truth to sell the biggest of lies The lexicon is weaponised – population atomised Information criminalised – the dissenters? Tongue-tied! The sun hangs low, the church bells toll The clouds unfold with burning gold When truth breaks through these city walls Perfidious Albion must fall By the grave of William Blake By the grave of William Blake By the grave of William Blake By the grave of William Blake