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, [bad word] rings around the moon,
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.

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 on its face,
And the world is like an apple,
Whirling silently in space,
Like the circle, 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 a shore,
Leave their footprints in the sand.
Was the sound of distant [bad word] 
Just the fingers of your hand?
Picture's hanging in a hallway,
And the fragment of this song:
Half-remembered names and faces,
But to whom do they belong?
When you knew, that it was over,
Were you suddenly aware,
That the autumn leaves were turning
To the color of her hair?
Like a circle in a spiral,
Like 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.

Picture's hanging in a hallway,
And the fragment of this song:
Half-remembered names and faces,
But to whom do they belong?
When you knew, that it was over,
Were you suddenly aware,
That the autumn leaves were turning
To the color of her hair?
Like a circle in a spiral,
Like 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.