Tonart: D minor
Intro 1
Bm
A
D
Em
G
Bm
A
Em
D
Bm
A
D
Em
F#
G
F#
Em
F#
Bm
A
Em
G
Bm
A
Em
D
Bm
Verse 1
Em
G
Bm
The impossible story
A
Em
Words will never get close to
A
Bm
The colour of your mourning
A
You know that I am so sincere
Em
F#m
Bm
But what is that help ing?
G
F#
Em
I won't be the author of a story
F#
That is not mine to tell
Bm
A
Make the fuckers talk
Em
G
Bm
A
Em
D
Standing in the flame of fire
Bm
A
Say it like it is
Em
F#
Shout it like you're in the fire
G
F#
F#m
Em
Verse 2
F#
Bm
D
As angry and as urgent as a teen
Em
I try to set the scene,
G
natural human instinct is to intervene
Bm
The same that cut the ones
Em
Cos shit is so naive,
D
are cutting down the very thing that the people need
Bm
Cos everything is already
Em
And already been deemed to be
Bm
agreed and disagreed
And it seems we're
first
Em
In a post modern post truth
A
D
you can quote me and
Em
I'm a lay it like an IED and
G
Bm
trigger it re motely
D
No wonder these bars get
banked with boasting
Em
D
Privilege does not necessarily
Bm
mean you're coasting
D
So keep a pin close to burst
the bubble
Em
Of some earnest motherfucker that
G
Bm
has gone to the trouble
Of being a grave digger digging
A
D
the dead to life
Em
There's nothing to suggest
D
that salvation will arrive
Bm
A
And to remind me of it is so contrived
D
Em
I don't need a broken record
G
to bring me down off my high
Bm
I just need these green eyes
Em
As much as I wish that I
D
Bm
had the answer why
Verse 3
Em
G
Standing in the flame
Bm
A
Em
of fire
D
Bm
A
Say it like it is
Em
D
Shout it like you're in the fire
G
F#
F#m
Em
F#
Bm
Em
G
Bm
The impossible story
A
Em
Words will never get close to
A
Bm
The colour of your morning
A
You know that I am so sincere
Em
F#m
Bm
But what is that help ing
G
F#
Em
I can't be the author of a story
F#
That is not mine to tell
Bm
This is not the body that has
Verse 4
A
grown out of a squalor
Em
G
This is not the optimism born
from living horror
Bm
The guilt could make a brother
A
wanna lose a white collar
it today he'll
The dirt under the fingernails
Em
That the bones had replaced
F#m
in a rubbish tip grave
G
The sweat they wiped off when
Bm
they put their knives away
Is the same sweat we get when
F#
F#m
we dance the night away
Bm
And if I could turn the sun around
A
and il luminate the hell
D
Cos you best believe it can be found
G
A
where humanity dwell
Bm
An d I could write a book about
A
a book that wouldn't sell
Em
Be the author of a story that
D
Bm
was never mine to tell but
Where would that lead us? Preach
Em
To believers we're needing
you resent the grievance
D
Em
But if I don't at least try it's like
Bm
The story must be told some
Em
But it won't be delivered
Bm
Nor will it be heard over the
Em
Saying fuck it all fuck it all fuck
D
Bm
it all for all 12 months
Verse 5
Em
G
The impossible story
Bm
A
Words will never get
D
Bm
The colour of your morning
A
You know that I am so sincere
Em
F#m
Bm
But what is that help ing
G
F#
F#m
Em
I can't be the author of a story
F#
Bm
That is not mine to tell
Outro 1
A
Em
G
Bm
A
Em
D
Em
Bm
A
Em
F#
Bm
G
F#
F#m
Bm
Em
F#
Bm
A
Em
G
Bm
A
Em
D
Bm
A
Em
F#
G
F#
F#m
Em
F#
Bm
A
D
Em
G
Bm
A
Em
D
Bm
A
Em
F#
G
F#
Em
F#
Bm
D
Bm
Em
G
Bm
D
Em
D
Bm
Em
F#
G
F#
F#m
Em
F#
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TunerE A D G B E
Akkorde & SongtexteBm A D Em G...
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