A sword of fire and an axe of cold
Vision of the Sibyl has foretold
Armies gather on the battle-plain

All will fall and earth will die in flame

Here on the battle-plain

We will die in flame

In falcon's feathers soaring overhead

Choosing warriors among the dead
Twilight written in the runes of crones
Freya weeps upon her golden throne


Upon her golden throne
We wait for her alone

Call us unto you hall
Take us into your thrall


The battle rages, but they fight in vain
When all is done it must begin again