There Will Be Killing Till The Score

Pray, For All Men Need The Aid Of The Gods.

Most Grievous Of All Deaths It Is To Die Of Hunger.

And Now I'm Using Sarcasm, To Confess The Whole Thing So Later I Could Say I Already Told You.

Jove Lifts The Golden Balances That Show The Fates Of Mortal Men, And Things Below.

Men In Their Generations Are Like The Leaves Of The Trees. The Wind Blows And One Year's Leaves Are Scattered On The Ground; But The Trees Burst Into Bud And Put On Fresh Ones When The Spring Comes Round.