Round, like a circle in a spiral |
Like a wheel within a wheel |
Never ending or beginning |
On an ever spinning reel |
Like a snowball down a mountain |
Or a carnival balloon |
Like a carousel that's turning |
Running rings around the moon |
Like a clock |
Whose hands are sweeping |
Past the minutes of its face |
And the world is like an apple |
Whirling silently in space |
Like the circles that you find |
In the windmills of your mind |
Like a tunnel that you follow |
To a tunnel of its own |
Down a hollow to a cavern |
Where the sun has never shone |
Like a door that keeps revolving |
In a half-forgotten dream |
Or the ripples from a pebble |
Someone tosses in a stream |
Like a clock |
Whose hands are sweeping |
Past the minutes of its face |
And the world is like an apple |
Whirling silently in space |
Like the circles that you find |
In the windmills of your mind |
Keys that jingle in your pocket |
Words that jangle in your head |
Why did summer go so quickly? |
Was it something that you said? |
Lovers walk along the shore |
And leave their footprints |
In the sand |
Is the sound of distant drumming |
Just the fingers of your hand? |
Pictures hanging in a hallway |
and the fragment of a song |
Half-remembered names and faces |
But to whom do they belong? |
When you knew that it was over |
You were suddenly aware |
That the autumn leaves |
Were turning |
To the colour of her hair |
A circle in a spiral |
A wheel within a wheel |
Never ending or beginning |
On an ever spinning reel |
As the images unwind |
Like the circles that you find |
In the windmills of your mind |