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!



To be a Black Mummy!