Cunning and brash,
The king of Ephyra
Draws his final breath
No apprehension
Of confronting Death
For he has a plan

Thanatos scales the palace gates
His quarry a man who dared to betray Olympus
And give up its secrets
For his own gain

It is one thing to send the guilty down
It's another to keep him

As the travelers forge the river Styx
Tartarus looms in the distance
The prisoner senses his opportunity to escape

The very manacles intended to keep him bound
Are the ones that will free him

Sisyphus: Pray tell, are these my eternal chains?
Death: Indeed, they shall be your tomb.
Sisyphus: So forged to keep even a god detained?
Death: No doubt they could humble the highest throne
Sisyphus: I have reservations
These shackles confuse me
A brief demonstration
On your own hands would soothe me...
And I run

Zeus: How dare this mortal Sisyphus mock Death!
He thinks his tricks will expunge his debt
He may have wit, but he lacks respect
For the gods! He will pay for this treason!

A mountainside is where he'll serve his sentence
A mighty stone is how he'll pay his penance.
He needs no chains, for his toil is endless
Trudging and rolling from season to season

Pushing
And rolling
And trudging
And toiling
Till the end of time