Amon Amarth
A storm rolls in from the seaCovering the land with black thunder cloudsRain whips the ground at their feetAs they come ashore in this foreign land
Thunder brakes the silenceOf fivehundred men assembled ashoreGazing through the misty rainAt the mountain not a mile awaySo dark and silent it stands thereThe mighty AMON AMARTHReaching for the cloudcloaked skiesSo grim and fearful in might
With the wind in their backs they start walkingDecisive men of the northThey strive through this darkened landWith only mount doom in their sightThe closer they get to the mountainThe clearer their eyes can seeA forest of one thousand spears awaitingAwaiting the battle that will be
A cry of war emergesEchoes over the fieldWarriors run, like wolves up the slopesBoldly charging the enemy lines
With weapons so fearsome and sharp in their handsAnd shields of oakwood and steelThey slit open stomachs and split skulls to the jawIntestines cover the field
The defenders are weak in this brutal warThe northmen have power and gutsA bloodshed like no one has seen here beforeNone can escape their cuts
Arrows with fire fly through the airTouching houses and shieldsThe Vikings can feel victory is nearAs the enemy headlessly flees
A gust of wind blows in from the northClearing the clouds awayAs twilight falls and the stars come forthAnd the seawolves return to the bay
Corpses lie scattered all over the fieldFor the ravens to eat as they pleaseThe mountain is now left there behindAs they sail with the first morning breeze