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