Grab the fireball and let it burn
your palms to the bone,
scorching it black as
the dark face of the moon

It lights up in your eyes and
you know you've won the fight
before it's even begun, and you
begin to whisper the funeral rites

The winds roars around you,
blinding ears and striking feet,
and your shoulders catch flame
in the ever-growing heat

What a fury, what a light
you've ******* won that fight,
you've won that right
to boast about your victories

The heroes will bow down soon,
speaking their sin and hailing their kin,
and you'll be the spark in the fire

Cast in stone, they won't call you a liar