[Verse 1: Urthboy]
The wounds we licked
And losses inflicted
Drifted off in the distance
And battle scars lifted
If history is told by the victor
Rip the old script up, painted over picture
The official version of the vista, rose coloured gla**es
But can you hear the whispers? They're singing
And of all of those winters
Those incremental inches
The memory of which is
Like sand through the fingers
If history is told by the richest
Maybe you could pay to fix the painted over picture (picture, picture)
Official version of the vistas but can you hear the whispers? They're singing
[Hook: Montaigne]
We're still trying to swallow down the past
Yeah-yeah-yeah
Before the past takes us down with her at last
Yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah
[Verse 2: Montaigne]
I can remember on that day
We were the reigning champions
You swallowed down that trophy
All you remember is what they said
You're digging in to debris
For shards of gla** that reflect the self
You thought was good and now all those parts
Of you are dying somewhere else
Cough it up it's gonna hurt
But if you cough it up you'll remember
All the roses that you grew
And all of the beauty that came through
Dusty skin from the rubble of the past
Wipe off the sh** and find at last
We are right here, we are right now
And we're gonna get through all of this somehow
Somehow
[Pre-Hook: Montaigne]
Going through the rubble
Going through the rubble (somehow)
Going through the rubble
Going through the rubble
[Hook: Montaigne]
We're still trying to swallow down the past
Yeah-yeah-yeah
Before the past takes us down with her at last
Yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah
We're still trying to swallow down the past
Yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah
Before the past takes us down with her at last
Yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah
[Verse 3: Urthboy]
So we tried to write it down and document it in the hope
That maybe later you can understand the f** where we're coming from
And the photograph is sepia and thinnin', you could swear to God
It's not a version of ourselves we're running from
What's necessary to forget for history repeating
The finer details like a hairline that had receded
So we're going through the rubble looking for a treaty
To find a pulse when you thought the heart had stopped beating
And if a spoonful of fiction helps the history go down
Can you trust the version of events that we know now?
Who we think we are become a battleground
The past is a thing that we fling around
A thing that we fling around, a thing that we fling around
A ship we can run aground, wreck for the treasure found
Settle on a new account
[Outro: Montaigne]
Going through the rubble
Going through the rubble
Going through the rubble
Going through the rubble
Going through the rubble
Going through the rubble
Going through the rubble
Going through the rubble
Going through the rubble
Going through the rubble
Going through the rubble
Going through the rubble
Going through the rubble
Going through the rubble
Going through the rubble
Going through the rubble