A sword of fire and an axe of cold
Visions of the Sybyl have fortold
Armys gather on the battle plain
All will fall and earth will die in flame
Here on the battle plain
We Will die in Flame
On Falcons Feathers soaring overhead
Choosing warriors among the dead
Twilight written in the runes of crones
Freya weeps apon her golden throne
Apon her golden throne
We wait for her alone
Call us into your hall
Take us into your thrall
The battle rages but they fight in vain
when all is done it must begin again
