From the depths of despair
They cried desperately
"Free us from turmoil and fierce poverty!
"Our crops have gone barren,
"Our children are dying
"Flooded with sorrow
"Their mothers are crying!"
In response to their plea, I felt no remorse
But the thought of their labor seemed like a valuable source
For my evil conceptions, my plans to conduct
So I ordered them an idol to construct
Made of onyx, with wings spread apart
The flesh-eating beetle slows the beats of your heart
The SCARAB! The ONE!
Who shows me the way!
The SCARAB! The ONE!
Your citizens he'll slay!
Aziz Abshala, elder of the village
Attempts to defy the SCARAB with a vintage
Claims of gods who protect their farms
Your lords are dead, nailed up by their arms!
