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
Staring at the pavement under you

Burning, burning with the New York lights
I'm turning, turning into me, it feels like heaven, heaven

Oh, 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
Staring at the ceiling next to you