the who
in a hand or a face
Ain't it funny how they're all Cleopatra When you gaze into their past When you find out about their birth signs You realize there was no need to have asked All the history of a soul in torment Ingrained in a hand or a face Ain't it funny how they all fire the pistol At the wrong end of the race I am going round and round I am going round and round I am going round and round I am going round Going round and round There's a man going through your dust bin Only this time he's looking for food There's a tear in his eye, you don't know him Oh but you know what he's going through Ain't it funny that you can't seem to help him Feelin' sick as he staggers away Is it weird that you hate a stranger Can a detail correct your dismay I am going round and round I am going round and round I am going round and round I am going round Going round and round.