Turning, turning are the tables here before me Oh, but you're so lovely Lovely as you are, I know you'll leave me High up in a tree, I can't climb down
But I don't mind the trouble, it's a magic view Starin' at the pavement under you
Burning, burning with the New York lights I'm turning, turning into me it feels like heaven, heaven
Whoa the hum of silence never seemed so far But Lord it's quiet in my heart And I don't even miss a single blade of grass Paper trails, no fingernails and frozen eyes I never wanna close
I would be a fool to miss this magic view Starin' at the ceiling next to you
