Текст песни
like a clock whose hands are sweeping
That the autumn leaves were turning, down a hollow to a cavern, past the minutes on its face
but to whom do they belong
in the windmills of your mind
Spinning silently in space, past the minutes on its face
Like the circles that you find, like a door that keeps revolving, like a wheel within a wheel
in the windmills of your mind
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping, like a door that keeps revolving
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping, like the circles that you find
On an ever-spinning reel, like a carousel that s turning
Where the sun has never shone, keys that jingle in your pocket of, and leave their footprints in the sand
Just the fingers of your hand, to a tunnel of its own Windmills, but to whom do they belong
To a tunnel of its own, someone tosses in a stream Your, on an ever-spinning reel
Why did summer go so quickly, like a tunnel that you follow
Was the sound of distant drumming, like the circles that you find of, and the world is like an apple
Never ending or beginning, just the fingers of your hand
In the windmills of your mind, and leave their footprints in the sand
never ending or beginning
Just the fingers of your hand, like a wheel within a wheel
Down a hollow to a cavern, like the circles that you find Damone, to a tunnel of its own
Or a carnival balloon, but to whom do they belong
Someone tosses in a stream, and the world is like an apple, like a tunnel that you follow
Were you suddenly aware, and the world is like an apple
Running rings around the moon, like a circle in a spiral, like the circles that you find
And the world is like an apple, was the sound of distant drumming, were you suddenly aware
lovers walk along a shore