Sharks feed on blood; fear is your food
Pale your skin, deadly your Siren's song
Fearsome spawn of a monstrous brood
Epitome of all that is wrong
Mistress of a chrome and glass lair
You are Cassandra, flame-haired one
Snakes writhe in your copper hair
You're a slave of the balance sheet
Your heart? There is ice there
You kissed Rupert's clay feet
For the pleasure of Moloch, his god
To keep the wrinkled old bastard sweet
You threw slimy Coulson to the plod
With false words and fake tears
You shafted your staff and kept your job
A faded ghost, you cannot hide your fear
You are not Medussa, you are Medea
NB: Terza Rima
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