A black sunset rises under a funeral sky.
The freezing waters below as mirrors made of funeral mist.
The blasting sky above and the fullmoon is on the rise.

My hair blows in the winds of reap.
Still I float with the cold diabolical massacrewinds.
On the bestial wings of evil.
Above the mountainside and into cryptic winterstorms.

I long for eternal frost and black winters.
Asleep in the cold lakes awake in the stars in the sky.
And silent the walleyes in the North.
Where I once were a proud warrior.
Where I belong where I bath my soul in doomfire fog.
Where I ride deaths cold winds in the battles in the North.

Gis a Norse warrior I rode the dark valleyes.
With longsword in hand sworned to throne dark lands.

And to return to my master in the blue mist of the dying sunset.

A black sunset dies under the funeral sky.
My hair blows into winds of reap.
Still I float with the cold diabolical massacrewinds.
On. the overshadowed bestial wings of evil.

Above the mountainside and into cryptic winterstorms forever.