Bushwhacked

And somewhere a stranger crosses paths with an Egyptian king,
and somewhere a crowd will see their ancestors on bright display.

And I float helplessly down the Nile like blood, severe in slight veins,
and I won't find a place to settle because I’ve yet to find my way.

And somewhere a sphinx's etched emotion fades with the sunset,
and somewhere a sandstorm slowly erases each god and goddess.

And I read that Tutankhamen was a pharaoh, but only in his mind,
and I am reminded of a boy with a sloppy tan and a clumsy caress.

And somewhere a soldier's stance was more than just a production,
and somewhere a generation of slaves made geometry lithe and mild.

And I want to taste heat and sweat while sand grinds down my molars,
and I used to care, but it isn't only a single albatross that I've compiled.

And somewhere a leader’s stubborn refusal won't echo in his public,
and somewhere a nation's first-born sons aren't used as an offering.

And I wonder if it's possible for someone to have a city as a lover,
and I am an arch or the slope of a triangle, but still we keep circling.