Postcard Day

      EADGBe
E|------| 

E*:   XXX454
G*:   3X0000
E**:  X00200
E***: 000000 (yes, all strings 
loose)



Chord in the beginning
G*

Instrumental beginning:
E* B E* B E* B A E   2 times


[Verse]
 E*     B          E*        
My eyes are white circles above 
     B            E*
cheekbones on fire:
               B    A  E
pale hand gripping my pen.
 E*          B      E*          
Rounding up to the zero, adding 
B          E*
infinite fractions,
           B    A   E
letting nine become ten.
  B                    A   B
Two pink doves strut the shingles
          C#m                      
picking crumbs from the breakfast I
  F#
 saved
         F#m                     
for you dear. And I wish you were 
  A
here
         B
on this postcard day.

Continúa después del anuncio
Eliminar anuncios
E* B E* B E* B A E E***

 E*   B       E*       B         E*
Focus on the fine indeterminate line
               B      A  E
where the sky meets the sea.
 E*           B    E*            
Desperate midweek words, banal 
B    E*
and absurd
             B   A  E
freely flow out of me.
      B               A      B
Well, I may be a hostage to summer
           C#m             F#
but I'm a hostage, not a slave.
          F#m                      
And I'm clear that I wish you were 
 A
here
         B
on this postcard day.

E** G*

E* B E* B E* B A E E***
E* B E* B E* B A E

  G                             
Precious cargo of flotsam: mixed 
                F#
memories on an ocean tide
  G
swim madly with spice from the 
orient
               F#
on a mystery watery carpet ride.
 F                      G      
But with the sun going down, the 
              A
wind goes around;
                        B
blows them back out of mind.

G*

E* B E* B E* B A E
E* B E* B E* B A E

 E*           B    E*            
My eyes are white circles staring
       B        E*
 down past the point
       B   A    E   E***
of my restless pen.
 E*                  B  E*       
While the ghosts of my youth all 
          B    E*
sworn to the truth
         B   A E
call my name again.
      B                   A  B
Two brown legs don't make a summer.
              C#m                  
But two brown arms couldn't keep me
   F#
 away.
          F#m                   A
Well, my dear, I wish you were here
         B
on this postcard day.

E* B G* G*

E* B E* B E* B A E E***
E* B E* B E* B A E        These two 
lines repeatedly...