It moves like a live thing in his hands
The story, his story
Bloody and sacred, truth and lie,
The story, his story
And it tells itself,
the pages turn and tell themselves,
Backwards and forwards,
Backwards and forwards,
Backwards and forwards like the tide.
It moves like a live thing in his hands
The story, his story
Bloody and sacred, truth and lie,
The story, his story
And it tells itself,
the pages turn and tell themselves,
Backwards and forwards,
Backwards and forwards,
Backwards and forwards like the tide.