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