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