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| C#7 | | Round, like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a | wheel |
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| F#m | | Never ending or beginning on an ever spinning | reel |
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| F#7 | Bm7 | | Like a snowball down a | mountain or a carnival ba | lloon |
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| E7 | Amaj7 | | Like a carousel that’s t | urning, running rings around the | moon |
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| Dmaj7 | Bm6 | | Like a clock whose hands are | sweeping past the minutes of it’s | face |
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| C#7 | Cdim | | And the world is like an | apple whirling silently in | space |
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| C#7 | | Like the circles that you | find |
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| F#m | | in the windmills of your | mind |
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| C#7 | | Like a tunnel that you follow to a tunnel of its | own |
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| F#m | | Down a hollow to a cavern where the sun has never | shone |
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| F#7 | Bm7 | | Like a door that keeps revo | lving in a half-forgotten | dream |
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| E7 | Amaj7 | | Or the ripples from a | pebble someone tosses in a | stream |
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| Dmaj7 | Bm6 | | Like a clock whose hands are | sweeping past the minutes of its | face |
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| C#7 | Cdim | | And the world is like an | apple whirling silently in | space |
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| C#7 | | Like the circles that you | find |
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| F#m | | in the windmills of your | mind |
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| | | Bm7 | | | Keys that jingle in your pocket, words that jangle in your | head |
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| | | E7 | Amaj7 | | | Why did summer go so | quickly? Was it something that you | said? |
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| | | A7 | Dmaj7 | | | Lovers walk along the | shore and leave their footprints in the | sand |
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| | | Ab7 | C#m | | | Is the sound of distant | drumming just the fingers of your | hand? |
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| | | F#7 | Bm | | | Pictures hanging in a | hallway and the fragment of a | song |
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| | | E7 | Amaj7 | | | Half-remembered names and | faces, but to whom do they be | long? |
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| | | Dmaj7 | Bm6 | | | When you knew that it was | over, you were suddenly | aware |
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| | | C#7 | F#m | | | That the autumn leaves were | turning to the colour of her | hair |
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| C#7 | | A circle in a spiral, a wheel within a | wheel |
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| Cdim | | Never ending or beginning on an ever spinning | reel |
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| F#m | | As the images un | wind, |
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| C#7 | | like the circles that you | find |
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| F#m | | in the windmills of your | mind |
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