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”