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.