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