The high priest of money looks down on the river.
The dawn coming up on his kingdom of gold.
When the rim of the sun sends an arrow of silver,
He prays to the gods of the bought and the sold.
He turns to his symbols, his ribbons of numbers,
They circle and spin on their mystical scroll.
He looks for a sign while the city still slumbers
And the ribbons and the river forever unroll
In his kingdom of gold, his kingdom of gold,
Kingdom of gold, his kingdom of gold,
Kingdom of gold...
On the horizon an enemy haven
Sends traces of smoke high up into the sky.
A pack of dog jackals and a rabble of ravens
Who'll come for his fortress, his castle on high
In his kingdom of gold, kingdom of gold,
Kingdom of gold, his kingdom of gold,
Kingdom of gold...
His axes and armour will conquer these devils,
The turbulent raiders will falter and fall.
Their leaders be taken, their camps burned and levelled,
They'll hang in the wind from his citadel walls
In his kingdom of gold, kingdom of gold,
Kingdom of gold, kingdom of gold,
Kingdom of gold...