Текст песни SURVIVORIA - The First Filth

...Nin-Gig... Kar-kid... ḫnmt...

My story starts not on a throne, but with a handful of dust.
A father's debt, a famine's groan, a priest's unholy lust.
He promised Ishtar's sacred grace, a life within the shrine,
Then pushed my face into my place, and called the act "divine".
My first was not a king or god, just sweat and aging flesh,
His grunting form on sun-baked sod, a promise broken fresh.
He taught me how to bear the shame, to split myself in two,
To sell the flesh and keep the name of one he never knew.

I am the first, the primal filth, the shadow in the light
A vessel for their burning téš, in the Mesopotamian night
They carve my likeness on the clay, a woman, sipping beer,
While a man takes me from behind, conquering his fear
With every guttural moan, with every paid-for thrust,
I write my own damn history in degradation and in lust
My name is whispered as a curse, a nam-erim on their lips,
While their sons line up at my door, eager for my hips

Ana Harrani Sa Alaktasa La Tarat...