|Performed By:||The Monkees|
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 CHORUS: 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 With his travel logs of 'maybe next year' 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...
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