When the last of the echoes fades,
When the cymbals and the strings
Have died away,
When I am left with just
The ringing in my ears,
I take a breath and I settle down,
I try to count the things
That really count.
To figure out what I've done
With the last few years.
I grew up in the countɾyside-
There I could have lived,
And I could have died,
I could have had ɾunning water
And security.
But I took a tɾain up to [C7]London [C7]town,
Lost my [A]money and
Immersed myself in sound-
In lame jobs, late nights,
Poor diets and [Bm]poverty.
And after all [Em]the stɾuggle
And the stɾain
And after all [Em]the loss for [Dm7]little gain,
The harmonies have faded away,
But the melody ɾemains.
