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.