You’ll turn your
Profit to preachers
You’ve made a profit from preaching (all)
Something you don’t believe (all)
Your prelude to tyranny
Hey Mr. Midas
You’re a disaster
You’ve got a silver tongue
Biding your time
Is that what it takes?
Bringing down
Is that all it takes?
The cliffs that surround you
You’ve built an empire
Of death and decay
With a head of gold
On top of bronze and clay
Surrounded by your faith
A sea of painful cries
And followers made of salt
With fire in their eyes
Salt the Earth, a sea of sand and heat
Barren womb, whose child was taken too soon
Bastard child
Leading men to bastard ends
Tense your throat
And swallow the hemlock
Hey Mr. Midas
You’re a disaster
You’ve got a silver tongue
Biding your time
Is that what it takes?
Bringing down
Is that all it takes?
The cliffs that surround you
You found the price of faith
And you’ve got what it takes
To ravage and desecrate
With your empire based on
Hear the boots march against
The skulls and cobblestones
With no time to repent
Lay waste to house and home
Take this town
Sell it for all that its worth
Burn it down
And build from the ashes
Toil and work
Die for a selfish cause
Your palace of gold
Built on blood and bones
Is that all it takes?
To satisfy your
Greed and hunger
What a wonderful king
And what political folly
