And black dry tears rolled down from your empty
orbits
while you remember with sorrow your
ancient splendour
the colossal pomps of
this withered remote times
and you regret
impotent your depressing existence.
You oh Pharaoh, you oh so great and lofty
King
you without peace are now obliged to
be derided
exposed into a museum for the
pleasure of masses of curious
they don't
understand the tragedy of your poor remains.
To be a Black Mummy!
And
now you return to that fatal cursed day
first you had power and shortly afterwards
were dead!
Bonded at those ragged bandages
for an arcane doom
you hear again the
strange words of the Nile's Priest.
That you consecrated immortal as your
ancestral will
with holy bandages, the oils
and the unknown baptisms
and at last this
strange state that you've never forecast
dead among the living and alive among the
dead!
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