Well there's 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 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 travelog of maybe next year places
As a trade-in for a name upon the door
And he pays for it with years he can not
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 door... into summer
(fade out)

KORREKTUREN ÃœBERMITTELN