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