The Camel

The Camel


Barbar-
ians, ambare hair,
sun light, can’t stare.
Now it’s Narmer, Djer,
Now no heir, more papyr-
us, way ovare there Nasser!
Tired figu-are, many treachair-
  ous, impostare, never-lead-dares
Walk, walk, walk-ares don’t ever care
Dry air, almost centare but the westear-
ners are procr-air-ing, let’s all thank mistare Mubar-
ak. Herd moves sloware, sloware, sloware, sociale disordare.