Spinning globes and winning lee Shifting weight and lifting free... Weighing lines to flat accounts, Bouncing around and rimming out...
Steering shy of moving parts Grinding dry and shooting sparks... Falling cold at filling bins, Giving up and getting in...
You’ll come around. All the cogs in this town couldn’t figure it out. You’ll come around. All the legs run aground, quickly fizzling out.
I saw the rafters burn aloft, Raining foam and fitteds, And the wheels of failing VCRs Shredding frames and spitting The melting reels around In holes in the ground.
You’ll come around. All the streets on this route wind and wander about. You’ll come around. All the kids in the crowd stand and stare at the sounds. You’ll come around. Every voice in the round stops to wonder aloud. “Will you come around?”