FOLK SONG: "THE SUN THAT NEVER SETS"
TRADITIONAL (AL-MERAYAH REGION)
[Transcription of a blind beggar’s song in the Cairo Underworld. The recording is marred by a sound like dry cicadas.]
Oh, the King had a sun that was made of the night,
It shone with a shadow and died in the light.
Akhenaten, he sang to the oil in the deep,
While the "Old Ones" were stirrin' in restless-like sleep.
"One for the Pharaoh who gave up his name,
Two for the city that’s lost in the flame.
Three for the 'Filth' that is thick as the tar,
And four for the light of the Blackest of Star."
The "Anima" fades like a candle in rain,
And the "Buzzing" is just a reminder of pain.
He built him a city of "bone-trees" and salt,
Where the dreams of the "Chosen" are brought to a halt.
So don’t look to Aten, his gaze is a sting,
And don’t touch the gold of the Solomon King.
For "Everything's True" in the valley of gold,
And the story of "Filth" is a story that’s old.
— Recovered from a waterlogged notebook, Egypt. Note: The ink is shimmering with a faint, violet luminescence.