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
Papertrails no fingernails
And frozen eyes I never wanna close
Whoa, whoa

I would be a fool to miss this magic view
Starin’ at the ceiling next to you