| (Theme from The Thomas Crown Affair) |
|
|
| F#m | C#7 | | Like a circle in a spiral, like a | wheel within a wheel, |
|
| F#m | | Never ending or beginning on an ever spinning | reel, |
|
| F#7 | Bm7 | | Like a s | nowball down a mountain or a | carnival balloon |
|
| E7 | Amaj7 | | Like a car | ousel that's turning running r | ings around the moon, |
|
| Dmaj7 | Ab7 | | Like a | clock whose hands are sweeping past the | minutes of its face, |
|
| C#7 | Adim | | And the wor | ld is like an apple whirling silently in | space, |
|
| C#7 | F#m | | Like the circles that you f | ind in the windmills of your m | ind. |
|
|
| F#m | C#7 | | Like a tunnel that you follow to a tunnel of it | s own, |
|
| F#m | | Down a hollow to a cavern where the sun has never sh | one, |
|
| F#7 | Bm7 | | Like a d | oor that keeps revolving in a half-forgotten dr | eam, |
|
| E7 | Amaj7 | | Or the ri | pples from a pebble someone | tosses in a stream, |
|
| Dmaj7 | Abm7 | | Like a | clock whose hands are sweeping past the | minutes of its face, |
|
| C#7 | Adim | | And the w | orld is like an apple whirling silently in | space, |
|
| C#7 | F#m | | Like the circles that you | find in the windmills of your m | ind. |
|
|
| F#m | Bm7 | | Keys that jingle in your pocket, words that j | angle in your head; |
|
| E7 | Amaj7 | | Why did s | ummer go so quickly? Was it s | omething that I said? |
|
| A7 | Dmaj7 | | Lovers | walk along a shore and leave their | footprints in the sand; |
|
| Ab7 | C#m | | Is the s | ound of distant drumming just the f | ingers of your hand? |
|
| F#7 | Bm | | Pictures ha | nging in a hallway and the fr | agments of a song, |
|
| E7 | Amaj7 | | Half-rem | embered names and faces, but to w | hom do they belong? |
|
|
| | | Dmaj7 | Abm7 | | | When you k | new that it was over, were you | suddenly aware |
|
| | | C#7 | F#m | | | That the a | utumn leaves were turning to the color of her | hair? |
|
| | | C#7 | | | Like a ci | rcle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel, |
|
| | | Adim | | | Never ending or beginning on an ever spinni | ng reel, |
|
| | | F#m | C#7 | | | As the im | ages unwind, like the cir | cles that you find |
|
| | | F#m | Bm | F#m | C#7 | F#m | | | In the windmills of your m | ind. | | | | |
|
Home
