Heart of stone.

Hatshepsut sits on her commanding throne
Mason’s of Egypt prostrate at her feet
The greatest obelisk hewn from the stone
A toil, our God entrusts us to complete
Future generations shall stand in awe
Her monument shall reach up to the sky
And all the Pharaohs who have gone before
Shall have doubt, or reason to ask why

Now the stone lays flawed, quarried, and broken
Such a displeasure, which all fear to tell
Death and blood flow, for our God has spoken
One thousand souls are committed to hell

Hatshepsut, your heart of stone diminished
Your obelisk lays, still there, unfinished