Greatest Hits
Album - 1970 - Debaser id 88048

I found him by the stage last night -- he was breathing his last breath.
A bottle of wine and a cigarette was all that he had left.
I can see you make music 'cause you carry a guitar,
God help the troubadour who tries to be a star.

So play the chords of love, my friend, play the chords of pain.
If you want to keep your song,
Don't, don't, don't, don't play the chords of fame.

I seen my share of hustlers as they try to take the world,
When they find their melody, they're surrounded by the girls.
But it all fades so quickly like a sunny summer day,
Reporters ask you questions, they write down what you say.

So play the chords of love, my friend, play the chords of pain.
If you want to keep your song,
Don't, don't, don't, don't play the chords of fame.

They'll rob you of your innocence, they will put you up for sale.
The more that you will find success, the more that you will fail.
I been around, I've had my share, and I really can't complain,
But I wonder who I left behind the other side of fame.

So play the chords of love, my friend, play the chords of pain.
If you want to keep your song,
Don't, don't, don't, don't play the chords of fame.

intro chords: Dm\C\B flat\A

Em
Hello, hello, hello
C
Is there anybody home?
Em
I've only called to say
C D
I'm sorry.
Em
The drums are in the dawn,
G D
and all the voices gone.
C D Em
And it seems that there are no more songs.

Once I knew a girl
She was a flower in a flame
I loved her as the sea sinks/sings(?) sadly
Now the ashes of the dream
Can be found in the magazines.
And it seems that there are no more songs.

Once I knew a sage
who sang upon the stage
He told about the world,
His lover.
A ghost without a name,
Stands ragged in the rain.
And it seems that there are no more songs.

The rebels they were here
They came beside the door
They told me that the moon was bleeding
Then all to my suprise,
They took away my eyes.
And it seems that there are no more songs.

A (scar, star)?? is in the sky,
It's time to say goodbye.
A whale is on the beach,
He's dying.
A white flag in my hand,
And a white bone in the sand.
And it seems that there are no more songs.

Hello, hello, hello
Is there anybody home?
I've only called to say
I'm sorry.
The drums are in the dawn,
and all the voices gone.
And it seems that there are no more songs.

It seems that there are no more songs.
It seems that there are no more songs.