The Colourfield - The windmills of your mind

like a wheel within a ^A7wheel Never ending or beginning on an ever spinning ^Dmreel Like a snowball down a ^D7mountain or a carnival ba^Gm7lloon Like a carousel that's t^C7urning, running rings around the ^Fmaj7moon Like a clock whose hands are ^Bbmaj7sweeping past the minutes of its ^Gm6face And the world is like an ^A7apple whirling silently in ^G#dimspace Like the circles that you ^A7find in the windmills of your ^Dmmind

to a tunnel of its ^A7own Down a hollow to a cavern where the sun has never ^Dmshone Like a door that keeps revo^D7lving in a half-forgotten ^Gm7dream Or the ripples from a ^C7pebble someone tosses in a ^Fmaj7stream Like a clock whose hands are ^Bbmaj7sweeping past the minutes of its ^Gm6face And the world is like an ^A7apple whirling silently in ^G#dimspace Like the circles that you ^A7find in the windmills of your ^Dmmind

words that jangle in your ^Gm7head Why did summer go so ^C7quickly' Was it something that you ^Fmaj7said' Lovers walk along the ^F7shore and leave their footprints in the ^Bbmaj7sand Is the sound of distant ^E7drumming just the fingers of your ^Amhand' Pictures hanging in a ^D7hallway and the fragment of a ^Gmsong Half-remembered names and ^C7faces, but to whom do they be^Fmaj7long' When you knew that it was ^Bbmaj7over, you were suddenly a^Gm6ware That the autumn leaves were ^A7turning to the colour of her ^Dmhair

a wheel within a ^A7wheel Never ending or beginning on an ever spinning ^G#dimreel As the images un^Dmwind, like the circles that you ^A7find in the windmills of your ^Dmmind