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