In Fleet Street I lay down to sleep In the seediest journalist bar And in my sleep a vision I dreamed From afar
In celestial mist made of light An angel that blinds mortal eyes This vision I knew knew no wrong Only right
He took my hand and showed me things I'd never dreamed The veil blinding me was lifted And truth shone, a beacon beaming
The vision said softly to me "The people are becoming to free And if you want to sever the tea (?) Oh baby
Peregrine is looking grim The economy is falling to pieces It seems quite hopeless
Stand steadfastly by the friendly in exchange with free Broadcast calls for order and law Yet all shall be well, all shall be well"
The Holy Ghost bid me be bold For wisdom that swayed hearts of old Could will if it was spread among men Once again
The vision departed me then And I awoke cold and distant I knew my mission
Compositores: Gary Baker (PRS), John Robert Williamson (PRS), Malcolm Edwin Eden (PRS), Timothy John Gane (Gane Tim) (PRS)Editor: Domino Publishing Company Limited (PRS)ECAD verificado obra #6264915 em 10/Abr/2024 com dados da UBEM