Upon another limb flame foil flail.
And bellicose fortitudes stoke a foundry
Of righteousness; the mold each hath prepared.
Swirling hollow men cast noble scales,
And purge gray matter upon the earth.
Alarum drifts heavily upon an atmospheric
Depression; Death balances all.
How quick to judge and quicker still
To kill all evil: all the damned.
Lucifer has his two cents.
Bombs explode and flesh confetti
Adorns a celebratory mass.
Strike a tally!
A heathen infidel: an enemy insurgent,
Is henceforth disposed in heralded security.
Secure indeed in incessant destruction
Till purity (at last) has graced our nations
With charred desolation.