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 echo 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
travel
wagons
tears
stacked
through
score
trade
places
penny
every
whistle
fading
where
thought
keeping
there
distant
counts
counting
around
painted
children
caravan
circus
laughter
brightly
summer
cannot
found
finds
heard
killing
house
market
midas
nothing
Click on any word to see the translation
Click on this icon to translate the entire sentence