My childhood was weirder than yours probably, but that's not what I want to talk about. I want to talk about early memories...those one or two that we hold onto as adults, that we polish, a last vestige of our innocence and a reminder of what if felt like to be pure, non-jaded. One of mine: piling out from the school bus, a sea of suspenders, head-coverings, and Eintrachen, breathing in the sun of Ohiopyle State Park, then taking off on bikes down the Youghiogheny river trail towards Confluence. A nirvana of laughter. Sunday afternoon glory. Dusty apples and peanut butter. Cruising, untouchable. Nostalgia in a zuckertuten. My first itch of a scratch that only got worse. The feeling of freedom.

Midas Days is about freedom. It is about sibling love and rivalry, invincibility vs. vulnerability, age vs youth, treasure vs. what we choose to treasure.

Take me there, to when we still were young // You and me, in the backyard with BB guns* // And everything we touched, it seemed to turn to gold // Life was such a rush, those Midas Days of old // We grew up went our separate ways // Me to travel, you to an MBA // Still everything you touched, it seemed to turn to gold // I wish I had the touch of those Midas Days of old // Ohio-ohio-ohio-ohiopyle // Biking down the Youghiogheny // Feeling so alive and so high nobody could take the shine off me // Ohio-ohio-ohio-ohiopyle // Gold is back in town now baby // Feelin' so alive and so high nobody can take the shine from me

* no, i did not grow up with a BB-guns. Literary license.