Thu’um Thu’um impending doom 
The hammer hounds after the hunt. 
Those who are not so easily swayed 
Cower before the Maul of Murder. 
Heat of the crucible carves away the craven 
Allowing the new naked metal to expose courage 
Now it shall thwart the thoughts of any tuning 
Marks made by the maddening malice of the metal mallet. 
Who by design continuously seeks the purification  
Of the multitudes of impervious imperfections 
Littering the length of the lavish logam. 
Thunderous tones tongue its thoughts  
The Hand Who Holds The Hammer howls 
“The goal in question of thy creation 
Is to merely be snaked around 
The neverending neck of the finger. 
Bite thine iron flesh 
For it’ll be the only sustenance  
You shall know til the Last Eternal Winter 
Numbs the hand that holds thee. 
Only then may the hand who holds the hammer 
The finger fingering your empty effigy  
May feel the forgot flame within your figure”