I dreamed of a circle, I dreamed of a circle round.
And in that circle I had made were all
the worlds unformed and unborn yet.
A volume, a sphere that was the earth,
that was the moon, that did revolve around my room.
I dreamed of a circle, I dreamed fo a circle round.
And in that circle was a maze,
a terrible spiral to be lost in.
Blind in my fear,
I was escaping just by feel.
But at every turn my way was sealed.
I dreamed of a circle, I dreamed of a circle round.
And in that circle was a face.
Her eyes looked upon me with fondness.
Her warmth coming near,
calling me "sweetness," calling me "dear."
But I whispered, "no, I can't rest here."
I dreamed of a circle, I dreamed of a circle round.
An August day in the hills of Spain, a pair of children emerged from a cave.
The strangest sight there alone they stood,
with skin of green and words no one had heard.
The girl was stronger, the boy was weak,
with her new mother she learned to speak.
And wove a tale of a dying sun, they had left darkness,
a dark world come undone.
They travelled so far. Believing they came from a star.
She fell through life, through time, through parallel lives.
The men of science, the men of fame, the men of letters tried to explain:
Was it parallel worlds or a twist of time to make her
think she'd fallen from the sky?
A whirlwind spun them all alone, took them from their twilight home.
Believing they came from a star.