调:B minor
Verse 1
Am
Dm
G
There's nothing as cold as the freeze in your soul
Am
G
Am
at the moment when you are arrested.
Am
G
Am
on the handcuffs when you protested.
C
E
You raced through the night in the prison of fright
Am
G
as you head for the quicksand of questions.
Am
G
And children unborn will see you in scorn
Am
G
Am
If ever you make a confession.
Am
G
Am
That belong to the cops and detectives.
Am
G
Am
That they want to make a confession
Am
G
Am
As they steadily work to outguess you
G
Am
G
Am
who rally around to your rescue.
E
Am
G
your mind is divorced to give them the guilty impression.
G
Am
G
Am
fear to win the war of confession.
Am
G
Am
and burn at the base of conviction.
And you squint and you blink and you try not
G
Am
C
G
Am
to think of the cobwebs of contradictions.
C
E
And your clothes will be wet with rivers of
Am
G
sweat that tells the tale of the tension.
G
Am
G
Am
As it counts the time of confession
The questions will rain
The circles they pace and the
Am
G
Am
Tells you no quarter is given
E
Em
Am
And the crime is
Am
G
Am
To always work for confession.
And the balance of scale
Am
G
Am
In the shadowy days of the trial,
And sometimes they die with
Am
G
Am
When it's all too late for denial.
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