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.
And after all the struggle and the strain,
and after all the loss for little gain,
the harmonies have faded away,
but the melody remains.
I grew up in the countryside
there I could have lived, and I could have died,
I could have had running water and security.
But I took a train up to London town,
lost my money and immersed myself in sound
in lame jobs, late nights, poor diets and poverty.
And after all the struggle and the strain,
and after all the loss for little gain,
the harmonies have faded away,
but the melody remains.
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