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 sign

You realize there was no need to have asked

All the history of a soul in torment

Contained (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

Bein' 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