Paroles No matter where you go, there you are de Luka Bloom

Textes et Paroles de No matter where you go, there you are

I'll sing to you of a carpenter, a Muslim manHe was forced to join an army, he chose to leave his landHe was born in Northern Africa, with the desert all aroundHe loved his innocent childhood in the bosom of a desert townMohamed left Algeria, his family and his friendsKnowing he would never see his loved ones ever againYou must go, follow your starNo matter where you go, there you areNo matter where you go, there are youSo don't let go of what you know to be trueMohamed went to Amsterdam, to Paris and to RomeNowhere in these cities did Mohamed feel at homeHe'd walk the streets into the night, thrown-out wood to findMaking wooden boxes occupied his mindLittle wooden boxes in a line on Mohamed's standBringing food and shelter to a Muslim manYou must go, follow your starNo matter where you go, there you areNo matter where you go, there are youSo don't let go of what you know to be trueOne summer's day in Paris, he heard a haunting soundOf a lonesome Irish fiddle, he let his tools fall downLooking up he could not see the man, whose music filled this placeBut he knew his heart was breaking, and the tears rolled down his faceMohamed walked until he saw the man, with a fiddle to his chinHe stood and let the music glow, underneath his skinHe felt longing for Algeria, and loving for this songHow the music of a stranger helps the dreamer move alongThe carpenter and the fiddler became the best of friendsAnd Mohamed lives in Galway, where the music never endsYou must go, follow your starNo matter where you go, there you areNo matter where you go, there are youSo don't let go of what you know to be trueBy the Claddagh in the evening, you might see this southern manSelling boxes, toys and fiddles, made with Muslim handDon't you feel no pity, nor think he is aloneFor the music in his spirit, is his shelter and his homeMohamed's fire ignited with the ancient jigs and reelsHe sometimes chants in Arabic across the Galway fieldsHis prayers go to Moher, out to the Atlantic seaAnd echo to Algeria to the land he had to fleeYou must go, follow your starNo matter where you go, there you areNo matter where you go, there are youSo don't let go of what you know to be trueThere's a woman in Algeria, she looks across the sandAnd hears a loved one's prayer from the distant land...

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