When My Wrath Is Done

When my Patience is Finished

When the Mercy of Khufu is Exhausted

When my Subjects have Failed Me

And Continued Grace has become FutileThen will wrath

seem the better part of DiscretionMy Slaves Utter Words of Rebellion

They Curse my Name

They Bend not their Backs Unto me

Or Bow Before my MonumentsWhen Those who Incite Revolt are Crushed

When the Streets Run red

with the Blood of the Unfaithful

When the Hands of the Idle are Severed

And the Piles of the Skulls of the Rebellious

are as the Innumerable Stars