Songtexte The Windmills of Your Mind - Michel Legrand, Alan Bergman, Marilyn Bergman
                                                Round
 
                                    
                                
                                                Like 
                                                    a 
                                                circle 
                                                in 
                                                    a 
                                                spiral
 
                                    
                                
                                                Like 
                                                    a 
                                                wheel 
                                                within 
                                                    a 
                                                wheel
 
                                    
                                
                                                Never 
                                                ending 
                                                nor 
                                                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 
                                                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
 
                                    
                                
                                                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
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                    a 
                                                half-forgotten 
                                                dream
 
                                    
                                
                                                Or 
                                                the 
                                                ripples 
                                                from 
                                                the 
                                                pebble
 
                                    
                                
                                                Someone 
                                                tosses 
                                                in 
                                                    a 
                                                stream
 
                                    
                                
                                                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
 
                                    
                                
                                                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 
                                                walk 
                                                along 
                                                the 
                                                shore
 
                                    
                                
                                                Leaving 
                                                footprints 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                sand
 
                                    
                                
                                                Is 
                                                the 
                                                sound 
                                                of 
                                                distant 
                                                drumming
 
                                    
                                
                                                Just 
                                                the 
                                                fingers 
                                                of 
                                                your 
                                                hand
 
                                    
                                
                                                Pictures 
                                                hanging 
                                                in 
                                                    a 
                                                hallway
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                the 
                                                fragments 
                                                of 
                                                    a 
                                                song
 
                                    
                                
                                                Half-remembered 
                                                names 
                                                and 
                                                faces
 
                                    
                                
                                                But 
                                                to 
                                                whom 
                                                do 
                                                they 
                                                belong?
 
                                    
                                
                                                When 
                                                you 
                                                knew 
                                                that 
                                                it 
                                                was 
                                                over
 
                                    
                                
                                                You 
                                                were 
                                                suddenly 
                                                aware
 
                                    
                                
                                                That 
                                                the 
                                                autumn 
                                                leaves 
                                                were 
                                                turning
 
                                    
                                
                                                To 
                                                the 
                                                color 
                                                of 
                                                her 
                                                hair
 
                                    
                                 
                            
                                Album
                                
Die 12 Cellisten der Berliner Philharmoniker (Recordings 1978-2010)                                
                                
                                    
                         Veröffentlichungsdatum
 16-01-2015
                            1 Figure humaine - Liberté
2 Figure humaine - La menace sous le ciel rouge
3 Figure humaine - Le jour m'étonne et la nuit me fait peur
4 Figure humaine - Riant du ciel et des planètes
5 Figure humaine - Aussi bas que le silence
6 Figure humaine - En chantant les servantes s'élancent
7 Figure humaine - De tous les printemps du monde
8 Miniatur Einer Seelenreise
9 Sous le ponts de Paris
10 Que reste-t-il de nos amours ?
11 Une femme est une femme
12 Fleur de Paris
13 La Vie en rose
14 Sous le ciel de Paris
15 La Muerte del Ángel
16 La Resurreccion del Àngel
17 Trio and Double Quartet from Elijah
18 Main Theme (Basic Instinct)
19 The Man With the Harmonica (Once Upon a Time In the West)
20 As Time Goes By (Casablanca)
21 Family Portrait (Harry Potter)
22 Poverty/Deborahs Theme
23 I Could Have Done More (Schindlers List)
24 The Windmills of Your Mind
25 America
26 Clap Yo' Hands
27 Theme from “The Pink Panther”
28 Bachianas brasileiras No. 5: II. Dança: martelo
29 Yellow Submarine
30 Something
31 The Fool on the Hill
32 Yesterday
33 Michelle
34 A Hard Day's Night
35 Norwegian Wood
36 Hey Jude
37 Kontrapunctus I
38 Canon XIVa
39 Maria
40 Bachianas Brasileiras No. 1: III. Fugua (Conversa)
41 Yesterday
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