| Rumbling thunder cracks the sky
|
| And rain starts pouring down
|
| Lightning strikes a cold bright light
|
| Upon the blooddrenched ground
|
| The sword play is hard
|
| And many fall
|
| Steel bites sharp in flesh
|
| And upon a mountain
|
| Towering tall
|
| Stand the messengers of death
|
| Five horsemen in armour bright
|
| Waiting in the flashing light
|
| Looking down upon the field
|
| Where Vikings fight with axe and shield
|
| On stallions black as night
|
| With eyes burning red
|
| They ride with thunder to the fight
|
| Deliverance of certain death
|
| A warcry loud as Heimdall’s horne
|
| Echoes across the land
|
| Enemies who hear it freeze to the bone
|
| Friends of doom proudly stand
|
| They ride faster than the wind
|
| With lightning speed they strike
|
| Black ravens follow where they’ve been
|
| To feed from those who died
|
| With power they wield their swords
|
| As they ride down fleeing men
|
| Sending them to Hel’s dark court
|
| To never come back again
|
| The warriors ride once more
|
| To the mountain from which they came
|
| Once sent by the gods to war
|
| And they never return in shame |