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