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!