Kill the message.
Kill the messenger.
Murcury is not death, though
His is as deceiving as any one can tell
A theith and a lair, Larunda will not tell though
For cutthroat Jupiter hastily cut out her tounge
You may think, that Murder has beseeched the messenger of the gods
You forgot they are just as tricksy as us if not more
But what else is a god, but the very hardened psychosis of us poorly mortals