Lip-servants, sweet-smiling, Papers in hands, Sweep all from his path, With banknotes and bonds. Garlands of gold, So stately and serene, Wheels over fortune, His charioteers. And all that is touched, Turns into gold. Gold burns within his eyes, Gold was his soul. His order is all, And the rest is but clay. When Midas approaches, All shall obey. When Midas approaches, All shall obey. Sweet fool, do you wonder, We are but as tools, In the hands of the Lord, And the master of it all. Sweet fool, do you wonder, Be still, it is well, To be watchful, to be wary, Of his great cartel. Just trust in his rule, And as his wealth grows, To his faithful servants, Great gifts he bestows. To his faithful servants, Great gifts he bestows. Everything is in his power, The world turns in his hands. It is he who holds the day and the hour, The moment when the killing is planned. The moment when the killing is planned. So lay waste the city, Let a pleasure dome stand, Built in my image, Midas the grand. Silence the screams, It is I who command. I hold the purse strings, I rule the land. I hold the purse strings, I rule the land. I hold the purse strings, I rule the land. I hold the purse strings, So give me your hand.