|
The icy wind |
|
Pierces the skin of waiting warriors |
|
Like spears |
|
Will pierce their bodies in battle |
|
FrostedBeards on pale grey faces |
|
Eyes of death |
|
Are burning with rage |
|
Glancing across the fields of |
|
TyrIn the early morning light |
|
Grey clouds - cover the winter sky |
|
Cold snow - falls like autumn leaves to the ground |
|
The icy wind |
|
Pierces the skin of waiting warriors |
|
Like spears |
|
Will pierce their bodies in battle |
|
War cries break the silent wait |
|
Charging warriors rush to kill |
|
Swords are swung in the air |
|
The gods of war are called |
|
Vikings with fire in soul |
|
Clash on the open field |
|
Slaying with powerful strokes |
|
The snow is turning red |
|
Hooves gallop the plains |
|
Warlords on horsebacks |
|
Ride into battle |
|
With a thunderous roar |
|
The storm wind of death |
|
Blows across the field |
|
Sweeping with it |
|
Everything in its way |
|
So the battle settles |
|
Alone stands just one man |
|
Under the grey-clouded winter sky - alone. . . |
