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