| 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 reel
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| Like a snowball down a mountain
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| Or a carnival balloon
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| Like a carousel 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 its 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 its 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
 | 
| Past the minutes on 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
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| Keys that jingle in your pocket
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| Words that jangle in your head
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| Why did summer go so quickly
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| Was it something that you have said
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| Lovers walk along the shore and
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| Leave their footprints in the sand
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| Is 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 a 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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| In the autumn of goodbyes
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| For a moment
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| You could not recall the color of his eyes
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| Like a circle in a spiral
 | 
| Like a wheel within a wheel
 | 
| Never ending or beginning
 | 
| On an ever spinning wheel
 | 
| As the images unwind
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| Like the circle that you find
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| In the windmills of your mind |