Whirlwind, whirlwind, whirlwind,
Oh, how you make things spin!
Ever moving, ever changing
Leaving nothing hanging.
You turn me round about,
So wild that everything's a cloud:
Memories from my past--
Things that did not last
To things of new
Where all is askew.
"Who am I," I ask.
No answer--you move fast.
Oh! You, no man can find
For you are one of a kind--
Whirlwind.
Worthy of dreadlocks, a conga drum, and coffee house?
I think not.
Good thing I'm not an English major.
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