Chords for Luka Bloom - No Matter Where You Go, There You Are, live in Tivoli

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
[E] The Tivoli in Utrecht was the first place I ever heard people singing my songs with me.
_ [E] In 1990 I think it was, [A] when I sang in here for the first time and it was quite shocking to me.
The number of people that were singing along with the songs, [Eb] it was a beautiful feeling.
And you know, no matter where [E] I go in the world, I do an awful lot of gigs, but there's nowhere in the world where people sing like the Tivoli audience. _
[Bb] _ _ _ _ [Dm] It _ [Em] _
feels like you've been practicing all week.
[Dm] You _ should go on the road sometime. _ _ _ _
[Am] _ _ [Dm] _ _ _ _ _ _
[A] _ _ _ [Dm] _ _ _ _ _
_ [Am] _ _ [Dm] _ _ _ _ _
_ [Am] _ _ [Dm] _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
[Am] _ _ _ _ _ _ _ [Am] _
_ _ [A] _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
[Am] _ _ [Dm] _ _ _ _ I'm already so [Am] curious, from [D] the endless plains, [A] knowing you've never seen the [Dm] Tivoli yet.
[E] Feel the swirl, and [Dm] follow your style.
[E] No matter where you [Am] go, there [Dm] you are.
[A] No matter [D] where you go, [Dm] there are you.
So [E] don't let go, [A] or you'll be screwed.
_ _ _ _ [Dm] _ _ _ _
_ _ [Am] _ _ _ [Dm] _ _ _
Mama, you went to Amsterdam to [D] hire a sickle roll.
_ [A] Nowhere in these cities, your mama doesn't feel at home.
She walks the streets in the midnight, and throws out her tomatoes.
[Dm] They kick the wooden boxes, [Am] and lock [D] them high and dry.
_ _ They put the wooden boxes [A] in their blinds, and they have to die.
They eat the food of chelsea, and the food [Dm] of the blind.
Feel [E] the swirl, [Dm] and follow your style.
No [E] matter where you go, [Dm] there you are.
[E] No matter where you go, there are [Dm] you.
[E] So don't let go, or you'll be screwed.
_ [Am] _ _ _
[Dm] _ _ _ _ _ [Am] _ _ _
_ _ _ [A] In summer's day in Paris, he heard a haunting sound.
He heard a haunting sound, and he let his joke fall down.
Looking up, he couldn't see the music of his face.
But he knew his heart was breaking, [A] and tears [Dm] rolled down his face.
[D] Mama had [A] walked him till he saw the little tiny chin.
He stood and let the music flow underneath his skin.
He had longing for Algeria, and loving every smile.
Of the music that was a great [Am] mess of grief.
He [Dm] gave it his all, [A] and out of comfort and fear,
He began to bless the friends, and hide his dismal sorrow.
For the music never ends.
[E] You must go, [C] and follow [Dm] your style.
[E] No matter where you [Am] go, [Dm] there you are.
[E] No matter where you go, there are you.
So don't let [C] go, or [D] you'll be screwed.
_ [Am] _ _ _ [A] _ _
On _ _ _ _ _ _ _ a Friday in the evening, he had seen a selling hand.
Selling boxes, toys, and stuff made with Muslim hands.
Don't you feel no pity, nor think he is alone.
For the music is his spirit, his shelter, his home.
_ Muhammad's fire ignited with ancient sheets and wheels.
He sometimes chants in Arabic across the Galway field.
His prayers blow from all hearts, out to the Atlantic sea.
They echo to Algeria, to the land they had [Dm] to flee.
_ [D] You must go, [Dm] and follow your style.
[E] No matter where you go, [C] there [Dm] you are.
[E] No matter where you go, [Dm] there are you.
So don't [E] let go, or [A] you'll be screwed. _ _ _ _
[Dm] _ _ _ _ _ [Am] _ _ _
[Dm] _ _ _ _ _ _ _
With a woman in Algeria, she [A] looks across the sand.
And hears an upturned prayer.
_ [Dm] _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ [A] _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ [A] _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ [Am] _ _ _ [A] _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
[D] _ _ _ _ [N] _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ [C] _