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