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