Борис Гребенщиков

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A
D
This is a postcard
                            F         G
Saying I'm alright in this beautiful city 
D
This is a phone call
                    F        G
Saying, yes, I am sleeping alone here
D                  F
But the telephone lines are cut
    G           F        G
My hands can't hold the paper
 D
You are on my mind 

Nobody knows your name here,
Except when the moon is out
And then they toss in their sleep
Crying out for you to take them
But me I cannot sleep,
I cannot dream,
My heart is shattered
You are on my mind 

A
Once seven colors used to make a man blind
And now we are like birds stuck in barbed wire 

Precise, like sunrise
A child just like any other
Made of the bones of the earth
Fragile and deathless
Yes, I'm alright
I'm a church,
And I'm burning down 

You are on my mind...