| Song | This Town's Religion |
| Artist | Delays |
| Album | You See Colours |
| This towns’, this towns’ religion, | |
| I don’t get it; | |
| I just don’t get it, | |
| Shoot first, think last, forgive me, | |
| I don’t get it, but somehow | |
| I’m still right here, | |
| And this is the world we made, (it’s) too late to start again, (I guess= B+D4) | |
| But at least | |
| I know where | |
| I belong… | |
| This town, this towns’ religion, | |
| I don’t get it; | |
| I just don’t get it, | |
| Drink more, talk less, so guilty, | |
| I don’t get it, but somehow | |
| I’m still right here, | |
| And this is the world we made, (it’s) too late to start again, | |
| But at least | |
| I know where | |
| I belong, the face don’t fit but we can run, “ | |
| Whatever must you think of me, | |
| Simone? Not offerin’ to guide you safely home? | |
| The stolen cars that tear the field apart, they’re bearing down on us, we must depart”, | |
| The lovers in the photograph have gone; the lovers in the photograph have flown, | |
| Because no lover could believe in, this town, this town’s religion, | |
| And this is the world we made, strung out on street parades, | |
| But at least | |
| I know where | |
| I belong, the face don’t fit so we should run. |
| This towns', this towns' religion, | |
| I don' t get it | |
| I just don' t get it, | |
| Shoot first, think last, forgive me, | |
| I don' t get it, but somehow | |
| I' m still right here, | |
| And this is the world we made, it' s too late to start again, I guess B D4 | |
| But at least | |
| I know where | |
| I belong | |
| This town, this towns' religion, | |
| I don' t get it | |
| I just don' t get it, | |
| Drink more, talk less, so guilty, | |
| I don' t get it, but somehow | |
| I' m still right here, | |
| And this is the world we made, it' s too late to start again, | |
| But at least | |
| I know where | |
| I belong, the face don' t fit but we can run, " | |
| Whatever must you think of me, | |
| Simone? Not offerin' to guide you safely home? | |
| The stolen cars that tear the field apart, they' re bearing down on us, we must depart", | |
| The lovers in the photograph have gone the lovers in the photograph have flown, | |
| Because no lover could believe in, this town, this town' s religion, | |
| And this is the world we made, strung out on street parades, | |
| But at least | |
| I know where | |
| I belong, the face don' t fit so we should run. |