Ascension of Satan's Faithful

Dearest one, I call to the sun.  My limbs are weary, but weakness stays at bay.  I call to the nations of Satan to come to my feet and bury the ancient dogs of sin.  Merriment in demonic destruction is holy in thy sight.  You will speak in tongues of rage tonight.  Push out the words of foreign enemy and know the ascension comes as the war moves into your solar plexus.  Strong and blind, your kind is not meek.  To each you will reign as God of war and feel stronger, smarter, and more artistic than ever before.  You crush your enemy into a liquid river of pain.  I stand on the shore in a white dress sipping the red light into my frozen lungs and heart.  Be mirthful and free, and see me as your vixen tonight.