Round like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel.
Never ending or beginning on an ever spinning reel.
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 of 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.

The Windmills Of Your Mind
Dusty Springfield (1968), Dusty in Memphis