The name of treachery is Blood.
The senators beneath their desks,
cowering like schoolchildren
from the atomic bomb,
as men and women painted, fierce, throng
the offices of law.
And leading them from those same offices,
Blood stands and licks his hands, and grins,
his eyes not evil but vacant
of any moral sense, or sense at all.
The Devil did not murder you.
You were murdered by The Fool.