Postcards from Spain
v4
@Axel
Postcards from Spain
v4
@Axel
Text
[Verse 1]
Stone steps
Late sun
Laundry lines
Kids run
Grandma on the balcony
Shouting down
“come eat”
Orange peel on my thumb
Church bells
Someone hums
Stranger says my name
Like we’ve met for years
[Chorus]
I keep sending myself postcards from Spain
Olive pits
Cheap wine
Your laughter in the rain
Little squares
Slow time
I write your name
On every napkin
Every page
Postcards from Spain
[Verse 2]
Beach sand in my shoes
Buskers playing something blue
You’d roll your eyes at this view
Say it feels like a film
Midnight
Old bar
Soccer talk
Crowded hearts
I try to tell them who you are
Words fall short again
[Chorus]
I keep sending myself postcards from Spain
Olive pits
Cheap wine
Your laughter in the rain
Little squares
Slow time
I write your name
On every napkin
Every page
Postcards from Spain
[Bridge]
If you were here
You’d steal my chair
Talk too loud
Own the air
[Chorus]
So I’m sending you these postcards from Spain
Greasy plates
Loud nights
My quiet little change
If you come
If you stay
We’ll miss our train
Lose the map and keep your face
On every corner
Every day
Postcards from Spain
Stone steps
Late sun
Laundry lines
Kids run
Grandma on the balcony
Shouting down
“come eat”
Orange peel on my thumb
Church bells
Someone hums
Stranger says my name
Like we’ve met for years
[Chorus]
I keep sending myself postcards from Spain
Olive pits
Cheap wine
Your laughter in the rain
Little squares
Slow time
I write your name
On every napkin
Every page
Postcards from Spain
[Verse 2]
Beach sand in my shoes
Buskers playing something blue
You’d roll your eyes at this view
Say it feels like a film
Midnight
Old bar
Soccer talk
Crowded hearts
I try to tell them who you are
Words fall short again
[Chorus]
I keep sending myself postcards from Spain
Olive pits
Cheap wine
Your laughter in the rain
Little squares
Slow time
I write your name
On every napkin
Every page
Postcards from Spain
[Bridge]
If you were here
You’d steal my chair
Talk too loud
Own the air
[Chorus]
So I’m sending you these postcards from Spain
Greasy plates
Loud nights
My quiet little change
If you come
If you stay
We’ll miss our train
Lose the map and keep your face
On every corner
Every day
Postcards from Spain
Musikstil
Warm indie-pop band feel, male vocals. Shimmering clean guitars over a lazy backbeat, bass walking gently between chords. Verses intimate and close-mic, then the chorus opens with sunny gang vocals, handclaps, and tambourine. Brief bridge strips to vocal and guitar before a final big singalong hook.
