The high priest of money looks down on the river 
The [bad word] 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 
pack of dog jackals and a rabble of ravens [bad word] 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