Voice of iron was sounding
Thud of horses over blood glade
Simple birds will help me
To take fire to their own home!
Broken armor on the brown grass!
Rain of lances everywhere!
Maimed corpses lie in dust
You are truly winner there!
How can explain,
Oh, your soul through a rain,
Eagles will carry away.
Weeping for sun,
Oh, nothing to say
I will return to them pain
After great funeral fire
On perfidious murder
She invites guest to the table
Taste her wine with sleeping potion
Time of vengeance is coming
Torch is blazing, pit is dug deep
Dear guests, come into fire!
Alive shouting grave will be here!
A strong comment here is specific: the phrase you keep hearing, the mood you come back for, or the reason this song stays in rotation.
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