Magma slides down the throat
with little ceremony due to its rote
Smoke jets out in inky knots
from flared nostrils, scorched slots

Calefaction pulses past my chin
Napalmic streaks skitter across skin
The very air begins to reek of roast
a smoldering declaration, coast to coast

The sun itself settles in my solar plexus beneath
As I speak, eager flames spit past my teeth
Steps I take, to unjust enemy and cunning foe
impale the ground, utterly melting it below

Feeble are the ones who seek dispute
Mighty remains they who tread the path of truth

Their swords are in hand, stained in slayed ignobility
aware of wickedness and its toxic capability

Let the ones who seek shelter under darkness, under gloom
behold the justice and power of light, upon doom