Intro: Verse With his fool's gold stacked up all around him From a killing in the market on the war 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 echos of a penny whistle 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 Well, it's travel onto "maybe next year" 's places As a trade-in for a name upon the door And he pays for every year he cannot buy back with his tears As he finds out there's been no one keeping score Chorus (X2) Chorus (X2)
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