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lyrics
In the cold tomb, with the musty dust
Where the caskets rot and their hinges rust,
I recline in style and think I must
be crazy.
For a pharaoh’s life I’ve chosen me;
A life of gold and filigree
On a carved divan of ivory –
I’m lazy.
I’m dead and liking it
In my great palatial pit
Cooped up with my toys from yesterday…
I got riches and rags, both in goodly measure
Got amethyst cats crafted for my pleasure
And I count all my coins in my ample leisure
As I gobble dusty goodies from a sapphire spoon
But when you’re dead, all your toys have no application;
You’re left all bereft of your inspiration
And you while time with the reverberation
Of your melancholy pharaoh’s croon.
I remember my golden queen
Whose nose was high and eyes were green,
And who left one day on a barge as lean
As bone.
I’ve her picture on my carven wall,
My sarcophagus, my entry hall,
And her busty bust ‘bout nine feet tall
In stone.
And though I’ve passed away,
I live with her every day,
As my memories gather cobwebs in the gloom…
But with some luck and finesse and a bit of groomin’
I could get a second party to my exhumin’
Though she best like the odor of my bitumen,
‘Cause with resinous finesse, it’s hard to make girls swoon.
She’ll shine a light and my eyes will become dilated,
And I’ll sing hallelu as I’m excavated
And thank all my stars I was not cremated;
Rather, left to sing the pharaoh’s croon.
The pharaoh’s croon’s a tune that began long ago
It’s a ditty that some of you probably know
It’s sung in a round with yourself as your singing
Rebounds from walls of stone.
It’s not an anthem, a dirge or lament for all the things you knew before;
A life that you know you won’t know the like of anymore;
It’s more of a quiet duet
With the time to go – alone.
But in the desert, where the sun is bright,
And the air is hot, I’ll admit I might
Feel a pang of loss for the endless night
I knew.
But the feeling of being free
Will slowly bubble up in me,
Although being free is harder than being
True.
And they won’t like me much in town:
The way I look might get them down.
So, I’ll be left with the girl who dug me from my tomb…
And if she don’t think my mummified face too vile,
We’ll emerge from my little state of da nile,
And live quite content, being necrophile
Under sun that makes you whimper for the cooling moon;
When I’ve been cured of my perpetual state of stasis,
In the palm-dotted shade of a nice oasis,
We’ll renew our amour on a nightly basis,
Never more to be a pharaoh –
Buried in my barrow –
Free then from the pharaoh’s croon.
credits
from The Monster Songs,
released November 5, 2016
Music and Lyrics by Toby Mulford
