With the beating of our shields, we call upon you Odin.
Brins us through the black mists, bring us to our destines roads...
Chorus
As the gods look down upon me, I roam the earth with pride.
Through the soils of fallen Ancestors, off to Valhalla I wish to ride...
Ravens winging darjly, high above the doomed...
Soon to dwell with in the meadhalls, strog amongst our own...
Chorus
It's been a thousand winters, and our kind still roams the earth
The mist it rolls on down the hills, always testing a warriors worth.
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