The Sleeping King

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

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