(Intro) (A single acoustic banjo riff playing a eerie, bent-note blues lick, suddenly crushed by a wall of low-B heavy distortion and double-kick drums) (Verse 1) They call this the Gilded Age, but it’s just pig-iron painted yellow Every town got a savior, every corner got a fellow Selling bottles of snake oil mixed with arsenic and gin Telling you to pay your taxes while he rakes your copper in! Look at the mayor in his silk top hat Feeding off the poor like an alley-cat He claims he’s got a mandate straight from Above— While he’s slipping on brass knuckles with a velvet glove! We’re building cathedrals out of slaughterhouse bones And worshiping the bastard on the gilded throne! (Pre-Chorus) Tie the rope tight! Paint the gallows white! We’re hanging all the hypocrites in broad daylight! No room for mercy, no time to pray— The river runs red at the end of the day! (Chorus) Put your head right in the gilded noose! Watch the whole damn circus just turn real loose! You bought the lie, now you pay the toll They’ll take your silver and they’ll gut your soul! Pull the lever! Drop the floor! Ain't nobody singing songs of hope no more! Yeah, the trapdoor opens and the silence screams— Welcome to the graveyard of your golden dreams! (Verse 2) Now, old man Sawyer used to say to the crowd: "A gentleman’s honor is his finest shroud." But I seen that gentleman in the midnight dark Leaving three dead witnesses down in the park! They put up a monument, they carved his name While the widow in the alley takes the whole damn blame! It’s a rigged-deck game, it’s a crooked wheel Where the only thing honest is the cold, cold steel! You want a moral to the story? Here’s the final line: The rat gets the trap, but the cat gets the fine! (Bridge) (Tempo accelerates—relentless industrial thrash rhythm) Choke on the silk! Choke on the gold! Count up the lies that your preacher told! No heavenly court! No holy decree! Just a six-foot drop and an iron key! Rip off the velvet! Expose the decay! We’re slaughtering the saints in a brutal way! BLEED THEM DRY! BLEED THEM DRY! Look the devil in the face and don't ask why! (Guitar Solo / Heavy Breakdown) (A dual-guitar attack blending lightning-fast blues-scale runs with brutal, syncopated palm-muted chugs. Drums pounding in a heavy 4/4 March of Doom.) (Chorus) Put your head right in the gilded noose! Watch the whole damn circus just turn real loose! You bought the lie, now you pay the toll They’ll take your silver and they’ll gut your soul! Pull the lever! Drop the floor! Ain't nobody singing songs of hope no more! Yeah, the trapdoor opens and the silence screams— Welcome to the graveyard of your golden dreams! (Outro) Swing, sweet chariot, right over the cliff... Nothing left to show but a frozen stiff. The gold is fake. The rope is real. (Heavy bass note ring-out fades into the sound of a steamboat whistle blowing long and low in the fog)
