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
ammit who teareth the wicked to pieces
pale shades enter without the knowledge
of the magickal formulas
which is given 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