The Windmills Of Your Mind

Never ending circles

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I want my inner zombies back…

Being blissfully numb is gnawing at my ferocity.. .

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Had been blissful before, had been numb before…just never blissfully numb

Yeah, I want my inner zombies back, this utopia is too drone

Want my dystopia back

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The winds have been turning the windmills of my mind again…

Sleep is laden with illusionary images again…

The reel, the snowball, the carnival balloon, the carousel are all here

Was it something I said, was it something I should have said

Will I ever get put the fragments together, will the puzzle be ever completed

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I want this jangle to irate me, I want this temple to misguide me

I want to trade this blissful numbness for a teacher …for a joker

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First I will break the wings of my angel,

Then I will bury my dancing shoes

How should I drown out the piper I wonder?

Need to inject some toxins in my spirit,

Need to combat the voice within

Need to dry out the sweet rain

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I can’t tell,

Can’t tell where I left my soul shaker

Don’t know,

I don’t know how to throw the dice on the game of snakes and ladder anymore

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Wrote this at wee hour of a Thursday morning after listening to “Windmills of your Mind” over and over again. I first heard this song in music class in grade 2 or 3. The melody was stuck somewhere at the back of my ‘windmills’ for many years. I ‘found’ the song 2 years ago on one the blogs but didn’t quite get it till this morning. Finally the lyrics clicked; now that my mind is entangled in the same whirlpool

The original version of the song and in my opinion the best version

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Dusty Springfield’s version is the best female version of it.

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Lyrics

(from “The Thomas Crown Affair”)

Music by Michel Legrand
Lyrics by Alan Bergman and Marilyn Bergman

Round, like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel.
Never ending or beginning,
On an 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 are sweeping
Past the minutes on its face
And the world is like an apple
Whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind

Like a tunnel that you follow
To a tunnel of its own
Down a hollow to a cavern
Where the sun has never shone
Like a door that keeps revolving
In a half forgotten dream
Or the ripples from a pebble
Someone tosses in a stream.

Like a clock whose hands are sweeping
Past the minutes on its face
And the world is like an apple
Whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind

Keys that jingle in your pocket
Words that jangle in your head
Why did summer go so quickly
Was it something that you said
Lovers walking along the shore,
Leave their footprints in the sand
Is the sound of distant drumming
Just the fingers of your hand

Pictures hanging in a hallway
And a fragment of a song
Half remembered names and faces
But to whom do they belong

When you knew that it was over
In the autumn of goodbyes
For a moment
You could not recall the color of his eyes

[if a man is singing, this part would be:]

When you knew that it was over
Were you suddenly aware
That the autumn leaves were turning
To the color of her hair?

Like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning,
On an ever spinning wheel
As the images unwind
Like the circle that you find
In the windmills of your mind