| Down the slopes of death he rides
|
| The eight hooves pound like drums
|
| Darkness reigns the crumbling sky
|
| Invasion has begun
|
| Fields of flames greets his eye
|
| He smells the fear and pain
|
| Of dying men in agony
|
| It can drive a man insane
|
| All enemies flee his spear
|
| No bow nor axe do harm
|
| Allfather rides out on fields of fear
|
| When Heimdal sounds the alarm
|
| But on the field waits his fate
|
| Foretold in ancient times
|
| A beast with sharp yellow teeth
|
| And hateful burning eyes
|
| Today he’ll draw his final breath
|
| The wisest God of all
|
| His son will avenge his death
|
| Iormundr’s brother will fall
|
| He knows now what is to come
|
| No use to try and run
|
| What is to be, let it be done!
|
| What is to be, let it be done!
|
| Today he’ll draw his final breath
|
| The wisest God of all
|
| His son will avenge his death
|
| Iormundr’s brother will fall
|
| Down the slopes of death he rides
|
| The eight hooves pound like drums
|
| Darkness reigns the crumbling sky
|
| Invasion has begun
|
| Down the slopes of death he rides
|
| The eight hooves pound like drums
|
| Darkness reigns the crumbling sky
|
| No more is the sun |