Damon Albarn - The nearer the fountain, more pure the stream flows

^C/GYou have gone ^AmThe dark journey that ^Gleaves no ^Freturning ^C/GIt's fruitless for me to ^Ammourn you But who ^Gcan help ^Fmourning?

^AmTo think of life that did ^Flaugh on your face In the ^Gbeautiful past, left so ^Cdesolate now^{Em Am}When youth seemed immortal So ^Fsweet it did weave Heaven's ^Ghalo ^Caround you ^{Em Am}

Earth's ^C/Ghope to deceive, you were the ^Amfairest and dearest ^GWhere many were fair, to my ^Fheart you were Nearest The ^C/Gyear has its winter as ^Amwell as its May ^GThe sweetest leave us and the ^Ffairest decay

^AmThe nearer the fountain^G, more pure the stream^F flows ^{C C/B G F Em G F}

^AmTo think of life that did ^Flaugh on your face In the ^Gbeautiful past, left so ^Cdesolate ^Emnow When ^Amyouth seemed immortal So ^Fsweet it did weave Heaven's ^Ghalo ^Caround you ^{Em Am}

^CAround you ^{Em Am} Earth's hope to ^Cdeceive ^EmAround you^{Am C}Around you^Em

^FThe nearer the fountain, more pure the stream ^Cflows