I follow the Moskwa, down to Gorky Park,
listening to the wind of change.
An August summer night, soldiers passing by,
listening to the wind of change.

The world is closing in, did you ever think
that we could be so close, like brothers.
The future's in the air, can feel it everywhere,
blowing with the wind of change.

Take me to the magic of the moment, on a glory night,
where the children of tomorrow dream away, in the wind of change.

Walking down the street, distant memories
are buried in the past, forever.
I follow the Moskwa, down to Gorky Park,
listening to the wind of change.

Take me to the magic of the moment, on a glory night,
where the children of tomorrow share their dreams, with you and me.

Take me to the magic of the moment, on a glory night,
where the children of tomorrow dream away, in the wind of change.

The wind of change blows straight into the face of time,
like a storm wind that will ring the freedom bell for peace of mind,
let your balalaika sing what my guitar wants to say.

Take me to the magic of the moment, on a glory night,
where the children of tomorrow share their dreams, with you and me.

Take me to the magic of the moment, on a glory night,
where the children of tomorrow dream away, in the wind of change.

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