With his fool's gold stacked up all around him

From a killing in the market on the lawn

The children left king Midas there as they found him

In his counting house where nothing counts but more



And he thought he heard the echoes of a pennywhistle band

And the laughter from a distant caravan

And the brightly painted line of circus wagons in the sand

Fading through the door into summer



With his travel arms of many next-year places

As a trade-in for a name upon the door

And he faced the livid years he cannot

Buy back with his tears when he finds out

There's been no one keeping score



And he thought he heard the echoes of a pennywhistle band

And the laughter from a distant caravan

And the brightly painted line of circus wagons in the sand

Fading through the door into summer



Yes, he thought he heard the echoes of a pennywhistle band

And the laughter from a distant caravan

And the brightly painted line of circus wagons in the sand

Fading through the door into summer



Fading through the door into summer...

Fading through the door into summer