The Golden Flyer (Dancing on Iron girder)

Lyrics

(Intro: The sound of a heavy steam whistle blowing twice, followed by a fast, metallic drum beat that sounds like pistons firing)
​(Verse 1)
The law was a rope and the rope was a debt
But the Angel of Chicanery hasn't caught me yet!
From the Post Office roof to the Mint’s cold floor,
I’m always looking for a slightly wider door.
But now there’s a monster made of iron and heat,
With a fire in its belly and the world at its feet.
The Golem’s on the throttle, the coal’s turning white,
And I’m heading for the roof in the middle of the night!
​(Chorus)
Oh, I’m dancing on the Iron Bridge, I’m leaping on the car,
With a suit of shiny gold like a fallen morning star!
The wind is screaming "Swindler!" but the steam is screaming "More!"
As we break the very limits of what's happened here before.
Through the tunnels, o’er the plains, where the clacks-towers gleam,
I’m Moist von Lipwig—and I’m riding on the steam!
​(Verse 2)
The sparks are flying upward like a fountain of gold,
It’s a bit like a swindle, if the truth must be told.
You convince the heavy water that it really wants to fly,
And you sell the whole horizon to the people passing by.
Adora’s in the carriage with a crossbow and a scowl,
While the spirit of the engine lets out a metallic howl.
One slip of the footing and I’m history and dust,
But a man like me is fueled by a miracle and trust!
​(Bridge)
(Tempo speeds up—sounds of clanging metal and escaping steam)
The wheels go clickety-clack, the pistons go thump,
My heart is doing triple-time with every single jump.
It’s dangerous, it’s foolish, it’s a terrifying height,
Which means it’s exactly where I want to be tonight!
Vetinari’s watching with a clock inside his head,
But I’d rather be a dancer than be quiet, bored, and dead!
​(Chorus)
Oh, I’m dancing on the Iron Bridge, I’m leaping on the car,
With a suit of shiny gold like a fallen morning star!
The wind is screaming "Swindler!" but the steam is screaming "More!"
As we break the very limits of what's happened here before.
Through the tunnels, o’er the plains, where the clacks-towers gleam,
I’m Moist von Lipwig—and I’m riding on the steam!
​(Outro)
(Slow, rhythmic chanting over a fading train whistle)
Going Postal...
Making Money...
Raising Steam...
Just a man in a gold suit... living out a dream.
(Sudden hiss of steam and silence)