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