[Madam Majestic] On a circle in a spiral, Like a will within a will Never ending or begining, On a ever spinning wheel Like a snowball down a mountain, Or a carnival balloon Like a carousel that's turning, Running rings around the moon Like a clock whose hands is slipping, Past the minutes of it's face And the world is like an apple, Floating silently in space Like the circles that you find, In the windmills of your mind
*instrumental*
[Madam Majestic] Like a tunnel that you follow, To a tunnel of it's own Down a hallow to a cabin, Where the sun is never shown Like the door that keeps you open, You can dream the way you dream Like the ripples from the pebbles, Someone tosses in the stream Like a clock whose hands is slipping, Past the minutes of it's face And the world is like an apple, Floating silently in space Like the circles that you find, In the windmills of your mind
