Uploaded September 2016 | Updated September 2026, 1 hour ago

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I am a sucker for a propaganda war, I dig my trenches out around the edges.
I am a monster from the darkest bit of space and I'm gonna paint with panic.
We escaped without a broken bone but i'm not gonna lie, I'm out of sorts.

Tell me how to breathe without this feeling.
Teach me what to think so I'll belong.
Convince me that it's real and I will listen, before I tear the house down.

Hold fire with your words or you'll go up in flames.
The space around the sound will keep you safe.
Distance, protection and a job until the end.
The nightmare in the old square.
We escaped without a broken bone but i'm not gonna lie, I'm out of sorts.

Tell me how to breathe without this feeling.
Teach me what to think so I'll belong.
Convince me that it's real and I will listen, before I tear the house down.

One more trip around your pretty mind: peace fragmented.
Been saving prayers up for a rainy day, when God's distracted.

Tell me how to breathe without this feeling.
Teach me what to think so I'll belong.
Convince me that it's real and I will listen, before I tear the house down.
We escaped without a broken bone but i'm not gonna lie, I'm out of sorts.

Written by Andy Mort
Recorded in 2016 at Woodbine Street Studio by John Rivers.

Andy Mort: Keyboards, Acoustic Guitar, Vocals
Ben Munday: Electric Guitar, Bass Guitar
Luke Roberts: Drums
Claire Russel: Trumpet

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andymort.bandcamp.com/track/out-of-sorts