Notation: Modifications to the nominal chord by indication of the string (1 is high E) and fret. Examples: E(3-0) would be Em. Em(2-3) would be Em7.
In some places I play it muting al the strings whith the left hand but still playing the rithm with the right hand. I regret not to know the english name for this kind of playing (if someone knows of any commonly known name and/or notation for this, please, e-mail me). Meanwhile, I will transcribe it with an "*" to the right of the chord. Ex: A#*.
When a chord is played on a different fret to the nominal (the lowest), I write it the first time as in this example: G on 3rd fret= G(f3). From there on, it's played on that new fret until another fret change is indicated.
A superbeautiful song, and easy to play!
The Siren Song (The Quiet Zone / The Pleasure Dome) A D A D Letters in pencil, some of them as heavy as lead, G Em G D as dated as carbon, as black as coal, but burning as red. A D A D Clues faintly stencilled: the message, though leeched, is unbled, G Em D as secret as marble - as young, as old, as living, as dead. Em And always that laugh still Em that comes as though it's from pain: C though I'm lashed to the mast A B still it hammers round my brain. [same] Laughter in the backbone, laughter impossibly wise, that same laughter that comes every time I flash on that look in your eyes which whispers of a black zone which'll mock all my credos as lies, where all logic is done and time will smash every theory I devise. And the hour-glass is shattered only by the magic of your touch where nothing really matter... No, Nothing matters very much! Bm(N1) A C So the siren song runs through the ages, Am C B [oh yes] and it courses through my veins like champagne; B A C B C and with all the sweet kisses of addiction B F E(2-2)(N2) it's calling me to break my bonds again. [difficult intrumental part very unsure. If any brave musician dares more than gessing, please e-mail.] ..... A F#m A F#m A F# F Dm Bm Em Bm E A [same as 1st paragraph] Future memory exploding like shrapnel, some splinters escape on my tongue, some of them scar comprehension... beneath the scab they burn, but the wound becomes numbs. And always the song draws me forward, rejoicing in the search and the prayer, bored with all but the mad, the strange, the freak, the impossible dare. Still your laugh chills my marrow till I embrace it on my knees... Oh, when the mast becomes a flagpole, A B what becomes of me? B A G Em C C? C B What becomes, oh, what becomes of me? N1: or B?. N2: or A(3-1), or E7 or any other E?