: (Smith) In my Blakean year I was so disposed Toward a mission yet unclear Advancing pole by pole Fortune breathed into my ear Mouthed a simple ode
pilgrims sack Are stitched into the Blakean back So throw off your stupid cloak embrace all that you fear For joy shall conquer all despair in my Blakean
(Smith) In my Blakean year I was so disposed Toward a mission yet unclear Advancing pole by pole Fortune breathed into my ear Mouthed a simple ode One
(Smith) In my Blakean year I was so disposed Toward a mission yet unclear Advancing pole by pole Fortune breathed into my ear Mouthed a simple ode