To reach this wealth of never before,
you must receive the key from the dead.
To open Hell’s mighty back door,
which flows of crimson red.

At the twentieth hour, crows now still,
and the moon is half at night,
open your mind to all debauchery thoughts.
Only then will you behold the sight,
and smell the wood of this house that rots.

Enter then, and behold this place,
where the Harpy will never be.
Meet the dead face to face,
and they will hand you the key.

Listen, as their jaws open to speak,
and their teeth fall to the ground.
The smell of the rot within them reeks,
while your heart races to pound.

As you take the key from his hand,
you hear their bones crumble.
He begins to laugh, and dissolve to sand,
back off slowly, don’t stumble.

Blood drips from the key, to your shirt,
as you climb stares to you goal.
Your limbs will now feel the hurt,
from the wanting of your soul.

Now use the key and turn it slow,
upon the door of flesh.
Within the lock, the blood must flow,
in order for gears to mesh.

Upon the knob you turn,
your soul is now to sell.
You must feel the mighty evil burn,
in order to steel from Hell.
The power is whatever you want,
but listen, and take heed.
Just because you have completed the hunt,
your soul is not of free, this you must see.
For as the crows will now tell: