It was said that our race had passed into legend but iīll tell you a story
about ancient times
When the ones of my blood stroke with power to defend their roots with their
life
Early morning awakes the blood-rage and a bastion now rides battlewards
Burning eyes watch over the enemy, a spark and the fire will start to burn
And the voice of the ancient ones is a message blowing winged to be heed
īcause my blood has dwelt here for centuries there will always be a ?we?
and a ?they?
Early mourning, sweat and bloodshed rising with the battlefieldīs fog
One more day of battles and corpses, flesh for the ravens fertilize the earth
Stained my face with your blood and pointing down my sword
Itīs time to feast and to drink from the horns
But before clean up your ax, Why? For Tomorrow? NO!
(Thereīs) No tomorrow for us, cold is the wind that blows in our hearts
Only the halls of gods are waiting for us
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