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| Bb7 | Round, like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a | wheel |
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| Ebm | Never ending or beginning on an ever spinning | reel |
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| Eb7 | Abm7 | Like a snowball down a | mountain or a carnival ba | lloon |
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| C#7 | F#maj7 | Like a carousel that’s t | urning, running rings around the | moon |
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| Bmaj7 | Abm6 | Like a clock whose hands are | sweeping past the minutes of it’s | face |
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| Bb7 | Adim | And the world is like an | apple whirling silently in | space |
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| Bb7 | Like the circles that you | find |
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| Ebm | in the windmills of your | mind |
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| Bb7 | Like a tunnel that you follow to a tunnel of its | own |
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| Ebm | Down a hollow to a cavern where the sun has never | shone |
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| Eb7 | Abm7 | Like a door that keeps revo | lving in a half-forgotten | dream |
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| C#7 | F#maj7 | Or the ripples from a | pebble someone tosses in a | stream |
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| Bmaj7 | Abm6 | Like a clock whose hands are | sweeping past the minutes of its | face |
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| Bb7 | Adim | And the world is like an | apple whirling silently in | space |
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| Bb7 | Like the circles that you | find |
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| Ebm | in the windmills of your | mind |
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| | Abm7 | | Keys that jingle in your pocket, words that jangle in your | head |
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| | C#7 | F#maj7 | | Why did summer go so | quickly? Was it something that you | said? |
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| | F#7 | Bmaj7 | | Lovers walk along the | shore and leave their footprints in the | sand |
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| | F7 | Bbm | | Is the sound of distant | drumming just the fingers of your | hand? |
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| | Eb7 | Abm | | Pictures hanging in a | hallway and the fragment of a | song |
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| | C#7 | F#maj7 | | Half-remembered names and | faces, but to whom do they be | long? |
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| | Bmaj7 | Abm6 | | When you knew that it was | over, you were suddenly | aware |
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| | Bb7 | Ebm | | That the autumn leaves were | turning to the colour of her | hair |
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| Bb7 | A circle in a spiral, a wheel within a | wheel |
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| Adim | Never ending or beginning on an ever spinning | reel |
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| Ebm | As the images un | wind, |
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| Bb7 | like the circles that you | find |
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| Ebm | in the windmills of your | mind |
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