The Blessed Dead

Looked down upon with scorn

We work the fields of the masters

And share not the bounty of the black earth

Destitute servile cast out

Affording no tomb

We shall be buried

Unprepared in the sand

We shall never be the blessed dead

Scorned by Asar

Condemned at the weighing of the heart

We are exiled from the Netherworld

Serpents fall upon us dragging us away

Ammitt who teareth the wicked to pieces

Pale shades of the unblessed dead

None shall eneter without the knowledge

Of the magickal formulae

Which is given few possess

Not for us the Sekbet Aaru

Our souls will be cut to pieces with sharp knifes

Tortured devoured

Consumed in everlasting flames

We shall never be the blessed dead