| Have you seen my husband?
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| You’d know him, if you had
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| He’s known around old London Town
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| Most people think he’s mad
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| My husband he talks with angels
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| And with spirits that he can see
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| He passes time with the divine
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| But not so much with me
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| But I held him when he faltered
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| When earth and faith did shake
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| And on my grave the words will say
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| «I believed you, William Blake»
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| We scraped by in the shadows
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| Sown with pity and with scorn
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| The great and good they never could
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| Recognize a prophet born
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| With poetry and engravings
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| He presented Paradise
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| He revealed to them a Jerusalem
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| They would not recognize
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| But I held him when he faltered
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| When earth and faith did shake
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| And on my grave the words will say
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| «I believed you, William Blake»
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| Mr. William Blake
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| There’s one promise you must make
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| Dear William, if you’re right
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| About life on the other side, about paradise
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| Then you must promise me
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| That you won’t leave me when you leave
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| This world that didn’t believe
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| Be a comfort to your wife
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| She gave you up her one and only certain life
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| Don’t you leave me in my grave
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| I believed you William Blake
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| I’ll be with you, damned or saved
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| Don’t you leave me in my grave
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| I believed you William Blake |