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 Enter Without the Knowledge Of the Magickal Formulas Which is Given to Few to Possess Not for Us to Sekhet Aaru Our Souls Will be Cut to Pieces with Sharp Knives Tortured Devoured Consumed in Everlasting Flames We Shall Never Be The Blessed Dead
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