Ohhh, what did he do.
Whatever did he do?
Too many S's in his name?
Did it tickle the roof of the mouth of a god
who'd just lost his prize mortal gal to a groovier god than he?
Did he just get too poor to pay somebody tribute?
Did he step on some goddess's train?
Did he steal some ambrosia, just to taste?
Such a big boulder.
Such a nasty task.
Oh, could we face it, if we knew?
Is it true?:
Was Sisyphus simply not beautiful enough to forgive?
Aye, there's the real rub, I'll bet.
The bald truth, that: Too ugly.
Bulbous-nose, thin hair, line-lipped, snaggle-toothed.
Yep, I'll bet they've forgotten all about him,
those glamorous gods who gave him hell,
And the poor schlub doesn't have time to petition them,
because he's busy with the boulder all day and night.
And he doesn't have the money to bribe someone to do it for him
because he's busy with the boulder all night and day,
because it's just so obviously not a paying gig.
Why, he's famous and influential and referred to, even!
And he has no idea.
What did he do, and why can't he stop?
...maybe he can, and he just doesn't know it.
What would happen if —
— one day or one night,
when he's just about to push that big damn boulder up that ridiculous hill,
for the umpteen trillionth time,
what if he just plain didn't.
And instead, he sits down.
And he stretches his legs.
And he leans back on that old boulder
and he rolls that cigarette he's just been dreaming about
for a thousand odd years.
And when the manager of his section of hell comes by,
and glares at him,
Sisyphus glares back and says,
"This thing can just sit here for all eternity. I'm done."
Sisyphus sets himself free,
That's what I'm after.
It's in the papers the next day.
Sisyphus: Free At Last
Boulder Is Carved Into A Beautiful Statue
Put In A Beautiful Park
That Used To Be Garbage Dump.
I tell you, if I could get into hell without too much torment
or without stepping on cracks and being assigned my own boulder,
why, I would sneak in and
I would incite Sisyphus to revolution.
I really would.