To drag a bag of bones once more,
Right to Hell’s ever-open door.
A final "Farewell"—cold, resigned,
For souls enslaved, now work assigned!

Their minds will turn to dust in vain,
The fools will toil, yet reap no gain.
To reach the skies—an easy feat,
For free? And fight the dark? Deceit!

Who'd praise such work? Who'd pay the price?
Who'd toss a fortune—treat it nice?
A slave walks down to Hell's embrace—
There's cash to earn. He’ll find his place...