Maybe the trees lent their touch to the feeling
That the hierophant was about to record by engraving
In the hieroglyphs, in the stone that was found
At the ancient site by the ocean
Well-feeling upon the revival of the execution
Of the old, once forgotten, now re-discovered rite
To cremate the long-prevailed spirit mr. assuan
From the multi-millennial ages of the shaman-ancient egypt
See the fire burning
Hear the roar of the pyres
Now devour the one
Who volunteered for self-sacrifice
Smoke is rising from the candles in the room of the inscriptions
And the one to die is settling his body on the altar
The ceremonial audience handles the script of the esoteric burial
But mr. assuan knows: this death shall be just a transcendence
Wield, the weapon of ultimate purgatory
View, the horizon as it blazes in hues of damnation
These eyes were here to receive this rite incomprehensible
No man could compare to anything else without questioning his reason
Burn, mr. assuan, burn without regrets
This temple has served as a place of your illogical ascendence
Burn, mr. assuan, you will die into another plane
Into another state of existence, which was destined to be
Your eternal destiny
Walls of the world they crumble down
Lava flows from the transcendental eruption
Of the volcanic pit of re-creation
Of unholy life of another twisted, mutated soul
To breathe and re-live the civilizations of the aliens