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