Hadad, Slayer of Yamm

I come in names aplenty
I bide the sky and land.
My rage transcends insanity
With a fist or an open hand.
The instruments of malice
Fail not to surround me.
I thirst and drink a chalice
Encircling my enemies.

All is ill all is cluttered.
All is ill all is shattered.

The choice is but a key
To a life of pride and war.
Grandeur of prosperity
Is but the fruit of gore.
The mountain and its blood
Shall mark my name a God.
Behold the lord of thunder
Forger of the skies

I the builder, lord divine.
I the Lion, the slayer of Yamm

I hang the heads of those
Who shelter behind swords.
I poke their eyes with burning bow
Dismantle them in hoards.
I’m bound to pry and fraud
And vest myself a God.
Their blindedness shall see the loss
Once they’re hung upon the cross.

All is ill, all is cluttered
beneath my Will they will scatter.
All is ill, all is shattered
Don't look weak, don't look so muttered

I the builder, lord divine
Conjurer of storms, devourer of light.