There's a fallen angel on a throne in every capital city,
Ruling with wisdom that manipulates the children of this century,
Pulling the kings like puppets on strings, bowing their knees to him.

But I'm dancing on the head of the serpent,
I'm dancing on the head of the serpent,
I'm dancing...I'm dancing on the head of the serpent.

Yeah, his name is lust, his name is pride, his name is deceptive knowledge,
But still he has a nail in his eye: he can't buy the saints in the city,
He tries and he tries, but they won't compromise,
They show him no mercy, no pity, and that's alright, that's alright.

But I'm dancing on the head of the serpent.

Yeah, he sits on a throne with an arrogant smile, thinking he's gonna stay there forever,
But the king of the saints is mounting his steps; there is a judgment to settle,
And in a short moment, his face turns surprised before he is thrown to the ground,
And that's alright, that's alright.

'Cause we're dancing on the head of the serpent, yeah,
We're dancing on the head of the serpent,
We're dancing, oh, we're dancing on the head of the serpent,
I...I...I'm dancing on the head of the serpent,
I...I...I'm dancing on the head of the serpent,
I...I...I'm dancing on the head of the serpent.