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Tuning: E A D G B E
[Intro] B F#7sus4 F#7(b9) B [Verse 1]
D The scattered Gm/Dpages of a booC/A#k by the sBadd11ea Held by the Em7sand, washed by the A7waves A sDhadow fAorms cGast by a clAoud, SkDimming bAy as Geyes of the pAast, But the rBising tide abF#7sus4sorbs them F#7(b9)Effortlessly cBlaiming.
[Verse 2]
D They told of Gone who tired of Aall Singing Bm"Praise Ahim, Gpraise Ahim." B "We heed not Emflatterers", he cAried, "By Dour commaAnd, wG/Baters retrAeat, SDhow my powAer, hG/Balt at my feAet," But the cBause was lost, Now Emcold wEmadd9inds blAow.
[Verse 3]
D Far from the Dmnorth Bbovercast Cranks adBbvanCce D Fear of the sDmtorm acBbcusing with rCage and scorn. F The waves surrBb6ound the sinking thrC4one C Singing "CDmrown Chim, Bbcrown Chim," "TDhose who lovA/De G/Dour majesA/Dty SDhow themselveA/Ds!", G/Dall bent their kA/Dnee. Dm7Aaaaahhh-aaaaaahhDm6h nanana nanana
[Guitar and strings] Bb C | / / / / | / / / / |
| Dm7/ / / D7sus2 / | (x8) | Dm7/ / D7sus2 / / | (x8) Dm7 D7sus2 | / / / / | | Dm7/ / D7sus2 / / | (x15)
[Interlude]
But he Dm7forced a smile even thoD7sus2ugh his hopes Lay dDm7ashed where offerings fD7sus2ell Dm7 D7sus2 Dm7 D7sus2Where they fell!
[Organ, strings and flute section] Dm Gm7 | / / / / | / / / / | C A | / / / / | / / / / | Dm Gm7 | / / / / | / / / / | C A | / / / / | / / / / | C/D | / / / / | / / / / | Dm C | / / / / | / / / / | Bm7b5 A | / / / / | / / / / | E/F# F# | / / / / | / / / / | E/F# F# | / / / / | / / / / | E/F# B/F# F# B/F# G# C# F# B | / / / / | / / / / | E A E B E A E F# | / / / / | / / / / | E/F# B/F# F# B/F# G# C# F# B | / / / / | / / / / | E A E B E A E F# | / / / / | / / / / | / | [Organ and guitar interlude] C#m G# C#m G# C#m B E | / / / / | / / / / | [Guitar solo] D E C# F# B F# B | / / / / | / / / / | A D E C# F# F#m D/F# | / / / / | / / / / | E A B G# C# C#m | / / / / | / / / / | E F# D# G# C#/G# G# C#/G# | / / / / | / / / / | [Outro]
"CNothing Fcan my pCeace destFroy as Clong as Fnone sCmile." F More Copened Fears and Copened Feyes, And sCoon they Fdared to Claugh.F C F C F | / / / / | / / / / | C F G# | / / / / | / / / / | G# | / / / / | CSee a little man with his G#face turning red Though his sCtory's often told you can G#tell he's dead. | C/ G/ G#/ A#/ | C/ G/ G#/ A#/ | (faster) | C/ G/ G#/ A#/ | C/ A#/ C/ / | (even faster) C | / / / / | / / |