The Door Into Summer

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 echoes 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.

With his travelogues of maybe-next-year places,
As a trade-in for a name upon the door,
(Ahhh, he throws it all away)
And he pays for it with 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 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.

Yes, he thought he heard the echoes 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.

Fading through the door into summer,
Fading through the door into summer,
Fading through the door into summer,
Fading through the door into summer.

(Fade)