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