He had a little song about a cul-de-sac
And about turning around that day
And he made into a wonderful little book
And made into a play

But the turnaround street turned around on him
And the story took a turn of its own
And the tale of his turning around
Turned into one that he didn't own

A brief spin in the opposite direction
Is a wonderful thing, of course
But a permanent pattern of perfection
Comes only when God is the source