In halls of dust-speckled relics
In labyrinths filled with prehistory
There is a room where scarabs still creep
Where the Great Pharaoh forever sleeps

Books of the Dead are affixed to the walls
Ankhs are clutched tightly by sculpted Gods
There is a room where mysticism yet seeps
Where the Great Pharaoh forever sleeps

Watchful falcons seem to soar overhead
The Sands of Time are forced to retread
There is a room where one body lays deep
Where the Great Pharaoh ends an eternal sleep