| You called to me,
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| From a distant northern shore
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| The horn sounds from ancestral past
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| Far sailing, for many days
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| Yet I am no closer, than when I set sail
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| For what do I journey, where the seabirds mock me Many blood-gifts I have dealt, to stay on my path
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| And the blood foams along my prow
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| The markings of victory and woe
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| And no ravens went hungry
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| The clouds smear the sun
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| And the nights grow cold
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| As that north star, circles above me No help it gives, no ship it steers
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| And the other stars laugh at my grief
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| As my sea-steed breaks up beneath me And my body cast to Aegir’s wrath
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| I am pulled under, beneath icy waves
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| And meet my end, as One-Eye laughs
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| My life was struggle, but true
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| I do not spite, the gifts I received
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| The cycle of time returns again
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| For my end, is another beginning |