The dim city light would serve as our guide
(six hundred candles in the breeze)
Like gypsies making off with the moonlight
(the money’s gone but we’ve got the memories).

It always seems to come right down to this
A heavy hitter swings but seems to miss
You can’t help hoping you’ll be the next one
And you’ll be winning

We’re tightly wound
Going round and around
We’re tightly wound
Going round and around
We may break on the way up
Or on the way down
Going down, going down

So face the breaks and we’ll be better for it
(change the tire and get back on the road).
Like an executioner on death row.

It always seems to come right down to this
A heavy hitter swings but seems to miss
You can’t help hoping you’ll be the next one
And you’ll be winning

We’re tightly wound
Going round and around
We’re tightly wound
Going round and around
We may break on the way up
Or on the way down
Going down, going down

So don’t cling to desperation
Just use your imagination
Your thoughts are what get you everything
But don’t think you’ve got it coming

It always seems to come right down to this
A heavy hitter swings but seems to miss
You can’t help hoping
You’ll be the next one
And you’ll be winning

We’re tightly wound
Going round and around
We’re tightly wound
Going round and around
We may break on the way up
Or on the way down
Going down, going down